THE  GAY 
ADVENTURE 

RICHARD 
BIRD 


^ 

(/ 


THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 


It  was  Beatrice  at  last! 


THE 

GAY  ADVENTURE 

A  ROMANCE 


By 
RICHARD  BIRD 

Author  of 

THB  FORWARD  IN  LOVB 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 

F.  VAUX  WILSON 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


My  book  the  Critics  may  abhor — 
The  Public,  too.  But,  all  the  same, 

This  Page  at  least  is  Golden,  for 
It  bears  the  imprint  of  your  name. 


2135380 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGB 

I  THE.IMPOVERISHED  HERO  AND  THE  SURPASSING 

DAMSEL 1 

II  BEHIND  THE  SCENES 16 

III  CONFIDENCES 33 

IV  BREAKERS  AHEAD  ! 48 

V  THE  PLOT  THICKENS 61 

VI  THE  HISTORY  OF  HENRY  BROWN        ....  76 

VII  MR.  HEDDERWICK'S  FIRST  ADVENTURE       ...  94 

VIII  A  TALE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES          ....  105 

IX  ENTER  TONY  WILD 120 

X   How  TO  DRESS  ON  NOTHING  A  YEAR          .        .        .  134 

XI  AT  THE  HAPPY  HEART 146 

XII   CROSSED  ORBITS         ..,.,„.  162 

XIII  RATHER  STAGY 177 

XIV  A  RISE  IN  THE  WORLD 193 

XV  A  CHANGE  OF  LODGING 209 

XVI  A  LETTER  AND  SOME  REFLECTIONS      .        .        .        .223 

XVII  OFF  WITH  THE  OLD  LOVE 236 

XVIII  TONY  AT  WORK  AND  PLAY 253 

XIX  THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS 266 

XX  THRILL  UPON  THRILL 283 

XXI  THE  THORNY  PATH 300 

XXII  A  TELEGRAM  AND  SUNDRIES 316 

XXIII  STILL  RUNNING 332 

XXIV  CERTAINTY — AHA  ! 350 

XXV  THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE 365 

XXVI  THE  USUAL  THING     .        .  387 


THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 


THE    GAY    ADVENTURE 


THE   IMPOVERISHED   HERO    AND   THE   SURPASSING 
DAMSEL 

MR.  LIONEL  MORTIMER  was  a  young 
gentleman  of  few  intentions  and  no  private 
means.  Good-humored,  by  no  means  ill-looking, 
and  with  engaging  manners,  he  was  the  type  of  man 
of  whom  one  would  have  prophesied  great  things. 
His  natural  gaiety  and  address  were  more  than 
enough  to  carry  him  over  the  early  stages  of  ac- 
quaintanceship, but  subsequent  meetings  were 
doomed  to  end  in  disillusion.  His  cheerful  out- 
look on  life  would  be  as  much  to  your  taste  as 
ever;  but  the  want  of  a  definite  aim  and  an  obvious 
inability  to  convert  his  talents  into  cash  made  you 
shake  your  head  doubtfully.  A  charming  fellow, 
of  course,  but  unpractical  .  .  .  the  kind  of  man 
who  is  popular  with  all  but  match-making  mothers. 
He  lived  in  two  rooms  in  an  obscure  street  off 
the  Strand,  and  at  the  time  when  we  make  his 


2  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

acquaintance  he  has  just  finished  a  meal  that 
stamps  the  lower  middle  classes  and  the  im- 
pecunious —  to  wit,  high  tea.  For  the  benefit  of 
gastronomers  it  may  be  stated  that  it  included  her- 
rings, a  loaf  of  bread,  some  butter  of  repellent 
aspect,  and  strawberry  jam.  Lionel  has  lighted 
his  pipe  and  seated  himself  at  the  window  to  enjoy 
as  much  of  a  June  evening  as  can  be  enjoyable  in  a 
London  back  street.  He  has  not  emitted  three 
puffs  of  smoke  before  a  tap  at  the  door  heralds  the 
entrance  of  his  landlady. 

Mrs.  Barker,  a  woman  of  commanding  presence 
and  dressed  in  rusty  black,  came  into  the  room. 
She  did  not  utter  a  word,  not  even  the  conventional 
remark  that  it  was  a  fine  night  or  that  the  evenings 
would  soon  begin  to  draw  in  now.  With  a  funereal 
but  businesslike  demeanor  she  began  to  remove 
the  debris  of  the  meal,  at  intervals  giving  vent  to 
a  rasping  cough  or  a  malignant  sniff.  Of  her 
presence  Lionel  seemed  oblivious,  for  he  continued 
sitting  with  his  back  to  the  door,  gazing  with  ap- 
parent interest  into  the  street.  This,  perhaps,  was 
curious,  for  the  street  was  but  a  lane  with  little 
traffic  and  no  features  worthy  of  note.  Nor  was 
the  building  opposite  calculated  to  inspire  the  most 
sedulous  observer,  being  merely  the  blank  wall  of 
a  warehouse.  Not  a  single  window  relieved  the 


THE  HERO  AND  THE  DAMSEL         3 

monotony,  usually  so  painful  to  the  artist  or  the 
adventurer.  And  yet  Lionel  puffed  at  his  pipe,  gaz- 
ing silently  in  front  of  him  as  if  at  a  masterpiece 
by  Whistler. 

When  the  landlady  had  transferred  the  tea- 
things  to  a  tray,  shaken  the  crumbs  from  the  table- 
cloth into  the  empty  grate  and  folded  it,  she  nerved 
herself  for  a  direct  attack.  Placing  her  arms 
akimbo  —  an  attitude  usually  denoting  truculent  de- 
fiance or  a  pleasurable  sense  of  injustice  —  she 
pronounced  her  lodger's  name.  Lionel  started,  as 
if  made  aware  of  her  presence  for  the  first  time. 
He  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  turned  with 
a  pleasant  smile. 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Barker,"  he  said  with  care- 
ful politeness.  "  A  fine  night,  is  it  not  ?  " 

She  assented  with  an  ill  grace.  Without  giving 
her  time  to  add  to  her  appreciation,  Lionel  con- 
tinued in  suave  but  enthusiastic  tones: 

"  Oblige  me,  Mrs.  Barker,  by  observing  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  sun  strikes  the  opposite  wall. 
Notice  the  sharp  outline  of  that  chimney-pot  against 
the  sky.  Remark  the  bold  sweep  of  that  piece  of 
spouting  —  a  true  secession  curve  of  which  the 
molder  was  probably  completely  ignorant.  Again, 
the  background!  That  dull  gray  monotone " 

This  rhapsody  was  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Barker, 


'4  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

whose  artistic  education  had  consisted  in  a  course 
pf  free-hand  drawing  in  a  board  school  and  a  study 
of  the  colored  plates  issued  by  the  Christmas  maga- 
zines. It  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  she  should 
wax  enthusiastic  over  the  warehouse  wall. 

"It's  no  good  torkin,  Mr.  Mortimer,"  she  said; 
"I  want  my  rent." 

"  But  how  reasonable ! "  returned  Lionel  with 
increased  brightness.  "  How  much  does  it  come  to  ? 
Certain  tokens  of  copper  —  silver  —  gold  —  with 
some  trifling  additions  for  food,  fire,  etc. 

"  One  pahnd  three  sempence  for  this  week," 
snapped  Mrs.  Barker.  After  a  pause  she  added 
constrainedly,  "If  yer  please." 

"  Why !  you  are  even  more  reasonable  than  I 
expected,"  cried  Lionel.  "If  I  please!  How 
could  a  man  refuse  anything  after  so  polite  a  pre- 
lude? If  I  please!  My  rent,  if  I  please,  is  one 
pound,  three  and  sevenpence;  and  I  must  admit 
that  the  sum  is  paltry.  If  I  please  to  exist  (and 
up  to  the  present  I  have  been  delighted  to  fall  in 
with  the  schemes  of  Providence)  I  can  do  so  for 
some  twenty-four  shillings  a  week.  It  includes," 
he  added  hopefully,  "the  washing?" 

She  nodded  grimly  and  stretched  out  her  hand. 
Lionel,  with  an  easy  smile,  waved  her  to  the  door. 


THE  HERO  AND  THE  DAMSEL         5 

"  To-morrow,  Mrs.  Barker,  if  you  please.  At  the 
moment  I  regret  to  say  that  my  funds  do  not  amount 
to  the  necessary  sum.  To-morrow  I  make  no 
doubt  that " 

Mrs.  Barker  interrupted  with  brisk  invective. 
It  appeared  that  Lionel  was  several  weeks  already 
in  arrears.  She,  it  seemed,  was  a  lone  widow,  earn- 
ing her  bread  by  the  sweat  of  her  brow,  and  she 
would  not  be  put  upon.  The  position  had  become 
intolerable :  either  he  must  pay  his  rent  or  leave 
the  next  morning. 

"  Let  us  consider  the  state  of  affairs,"  said  Li- 
onel, unruffled.  "  You,  it  appears,  need  your 
money  —  or  rather,  my  money  —  and  I  can  not  gain- 
say the  moral  claim.  You  have  attended  to  my 
simple  wants  in  a  manner  beyond  praise,  and  I 
would  cheerfully  pay  you  your  weight  in  gold 
(after  the  pleasing  custom  in  the  East)  had  I  the 
precious  ore.  But  at  the  moment  my  capital  " —  he 
searched  his  pockets  — "  amounts  to  sixpence 
ha'penny;  hence  the  deplorable  impasse.  My  pro- 
fession holds  out  no  prospect  of  immediate  or  ade- 
quate reward:  briefs  are  lacking  and  editors  slow 
to  recognize  merit.  I  have  pawned  such  of  my 
wardrobe  as  is  not  necessary  to  support  the  illusion 
of  an  independent  gentleman.  What  do  you  sug- 


6  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

gest  as  a  solution  of  our  difficulties?  It  is  re- 
pugnant to  both  of  us  that  I  should  live  on  your 
charity.  I  am  open  to  any  bright  idea." 

Unluckily  the  landlady  was  not  an  imaginative 
woman.  She  could  suggest  nothing,  save  that  Li- 
onel should  pay  his  rent  or  leave.  The  method  of 
raising  money  was  left  entirely  to  him,  but  the  neces- 
sity was  insisted  on  in  forcible  terms. 

"An  ultimatum?"  said  the  lodger  thoughtfully. 
"  Well,  I  can  not  blame  you.  As  you  have  no 
illuminating  schemes,  Mrs.  Barker,  I  must  rely  on 
myself.  But  rest  assured  that  you  shall  be  paid. 
What !  I  am  young  and  strong ;  my  clothes,  thanks 
to  judicious  mending  and  a  light  hand  with  the 
brush,  will  pass  muster;  we  are  in  London,  the 
richest  city  in  the  world.  I  will  go  out  and  look 
for  a  fairy  godmother." 

At  this  resolve  Mrs.  Barker  broke  into  cries  of 
protest.  With  a  feminine  distrust  of  her  own  sex 
she  declared  that  no  such  creature  should  pass  her 
threshold.  For  fifty  years  she  had  lived  respect- 
able, and  it  was  her  firm  intention  to  die  in  the  same 
persuasion.  Lionel  raised  a  deprecating  hand. 

"  You  mistake  me,"  he  said  in  gentle  reproof. 
"  It  was  but  a  manner  of  speaking  inspired  by 
the  recollection  of  Cinderella.  Being,  however, 


THE  HERO  AND  THE  DAMSEL         3 

the  masculine  equivalent  of  that  lady  of  romance 
(or  shall  we  say,  '  Lob  Lie-by-the-Fire '  ?)  and  out 
of  deference  to  your  sense  of  propriety,  I  will  strive 
to  acquire  a  fairy  godfather.  Till  to-morrow,  then, 
Mrs.  Barker." 

He  rose  and  politely  held  the  door  open.  The 
landlady,  carrying  the  tray  and  table-cloth,  left  the 
room  in  dudgeon. 

As  soon  as  she  had  gone  Lionel's  face  lost  some- 
thing of  its  optimism,  and  he  began  to  whistle  a 
tune  in  a  minor  key.  It  was  a  music-hall  refrain, 
originally  scored  in  quick  time  and  the  major  clef, 
a  gay  lilt  of  the  streets.  Modulated  by  Lionel, 
under  the  depressing  influence  of  Mrs.  Barker,  it 
became  a  dirge,  incredibly  painful  to  the  ear.  This 
even  the  whistler  recognized  after  a  few  moments, 
and  with  a  laugh  at  himself  and  his  misfortunes 
he  seized  his  hat  and  went  out. 

He  was  by  no  means  clear  as  to  his  immediate 
intentions.  Save  that  his  urgent  need  was  money 
he  had  no  definite  idea  or  plan.  How  to  compass 
the  few  pounds  necessary  to  discharge  his  debt 
and  make  sure  of  a  roof  was  at  present  beyond 
his  wit,  seeing  that  the  situations  for  men  like  him 
are  not  picked  up  in  a  moment.  He  had  been 
expensively  educated  at  a  public  school  and  Ox- 


8  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ford,  and  had  a  bowing  acquaintance  with  the 
classics  and  a  tolerable  knowledge  of  law.  For 
three  years  after  taking  his  degree  he  had  led  a 
pleasant  life,  eating  dinners,  reading  law  and  writ- 
ing. By  his  pen  he  had  made  some  sixty  pounds 
a  year;  by  the  law  —  nothing.  His  father  had 
given  him  an  allowance  while  he  lived,  but  eighteen 
months  previously  his  business  had  failed  and  the 
consequent  worry  had  driven  him  into  the  grave. 
His  wife  had  died  in  giving  Lionel  birth.  After 
his  father's  death  Lionel  perforce  had  put  forth 
more  strenuous  efforts.  He  had  even  written  a 
novel  and  sold  it  for  thirty  pounds.  One  or  two 
plays  lay  in  his  desk  or  managers'  muniment-chests, 
and  a  number  of  pot-boilers  were  soliciting  the 
favorable  consideration  of  callous  editors.  It  had 
been  a  precarious  though  interesting  existence,  but 
he  had  kept  his  head  above  water  until  the  last 
few  weeks.  Now  he  was  standing  on  the  curb  in 
the  Strand,  wondering  amiably  what  he  should  do. 
"  My  best  chance,"  he  thought,  watching  the 
stream  of  traffic  that  never  failed  to  fascinate, 
"would  be  to  write  a  loathsome  article,  topical, 
snappy  and  bright,  and  try  to  sell  it  for  spot  cash. 
I  do  not  think  it  would  be  much  good  studying  the 
advertisements  and  applying  for  a  post  as  clerk  or 


THE  HERO  AND  THE  DAMSEL        9 

secretary.  I  hate  the  notion  of  being  a  clerk.  .  .  . 
There  is  envelope-addressing,  I  believe,  but  I  write 
a  villainous  hand  .  .  .  nor  do  I  care  to  call  upon 
my  friends  and  expose  my  unhappy  condition.  .  .  ." 
(Since  his  father's  death  Lionel  had  naturally  given 
up  his  old  way  of  life  and  dropped  out  of  his 
usual  milieu.)  ...  "No;  I  think  the  loathsome 
article  is  clearly  indicated.  .What  shall  I  write 
about  ?  '  How  It  Feels  to  be  Out  in  the  Streets  ? ' 
...  '  The  Psychology  of  Landladies.'  ...  'At 
a  Loose  End  —  A  Curbstone  Study.'  .  .  .  How 
odd  that  I  am  desperately  in  need  of  money  and  hate 
the  thought  of  sitting  down  to  earn  it!  How  much 
pleasanter  would  it  be  to  stand  here  and  wait  for  an 
adventure  —  for  the  fairy  godmother  who  troubled 
the  conventional  Mrs.  Barker!  After  all,  it  is  not 
impossible.  ...  A  horse  might  take  fright  and 
bolt  ...  the  driver  lose  his  head  ...  a  beaute- 
ous damsel  sits  wringing  her  hands  in  the  carriage. 
I  seize  the  opportunity,  spring  forward  and  check 
the  maddened  steed,  escort  the  fainting  lady  home 
in  a  cab,  and  then  —  ah!  Boundless  Possibilities." 

He  smiled,  lighted  a  cigarette  and  pursued  his 
idle  fancy. 

"  She  must  be,  of  course,  the  sole  heiress  of  a 
millionaire.  In  his  gratitude  he  would  \vish  to  re- 


io  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ward  me.  But  seeing  that  I  am  no  vulgar  fee- 
snatcher  he  would  ask  me  to  stay  and  dine.  Over 
the  walnuts  and  the  port  (how  long  is  it  since  I 
drank  good  port?)  he  would  learn  my  story,  and 
with  unusual  delicacy  say,  '  Well,  some  day  I  hope 
I  shall  be  able  to  help  you  to  a  job.'  I  leave  his 
house,  warm,  full-fed,  hopeful.  The  next  morn- 
ing he  sends  his  car  round,  and  I  am  whirled  to 
his  palatial  city  office.  I  enter  —  the  great  man  is 
up  to  his  knees  in  documents  dictating  to  a 
staff  of  typewriters  and  gramophones.  He 
spares  me  three  minutes.  '  Good  morning,  Mr. 
Mortimer.  I  find  I  need  a  secretary  —  salary  a 
thousand  a  year.  Oh !  a  bagatelle,  I  know,  but  you 
would  have  opportunities.  Politics,  perhaps.  Any- 
how, a  beginning.  Care  to  connect  ?  '  I  accept  with 
diffidence.  '  Good.  Take  your  coat  off.  Next 
room  you'll  find  .  .  /  I  am  a  made  man.  Then 
the  daughter  —  I  had  forgotten  her,  dear  thing !  — 
already  touched  by  my  heroism,  might  look  favor- 
ably upon  me;  and  who  knows ?  " 

At  this  point  his  musings  were  broken  by  con- 
fused shoutings  and  whistles.  Looking  up,  Lionel 
saw  with  amused  surprise  that  for  once  fate  was 
playing  into  his  hands;  his  dreams  were  coming 
true.  An  open  brougham,  drawn  by  a  terrified 


THE  HERO  AND  THE  DAMSEL        il 

horse,  was  approaching  at  an  appalling  speed. 
The  coachman,  crazed  with  fear,  was  standing  up, 
tugging  vainly  at  the  reins,  white,  and  shouting. 
In  the  brougham,  pallid  but  calm,  sat  a  girl  of  about 
twenty-three.  Her  lips  were  slightly  parted,  but 
no  sound  came  from  between  them;  courage  held 
her  erect,  motionless  and  silent.  The  traffic  divided 
before  the  swaying  brougham  like  waves  before  a 
cutwater.  When  it  was  fifty  yards  distant  the 
coachman  lost  all  control  of  himself  and  with  a 
scream  of  fear  leaped  from  the  box.  He  came  down 
on  his  feet,  staggered  against  a  portly  merchant  — 
who  went  over  like  a  ninepin  —  and  lurched  heavily 
on  to  a  policeman  preparing  to  make  a  dash  for  the 
horse's  head.  The  constable  fell  with  the  man,  and 
the  pair,  hero  and  craven,  rolled  comfortably  in 
the  kennel,  clasped  in  each  other's  arms. 

Lionel,  thus  favored  by  destiny,  fitted  his  hat 
more  firmly  to  his  head  and  prepared  to  make  his 
fortune.  In  his  early  youth  he  had  read  that  the 
best  method  of  stopping  a  runaway  is  to  run  in 
the  same  direction.  Remembering  this,  he  set  off 
at  full  speed;  and  by  the  time  the  horse  was  level 
with  his  shoulder  he  was  running  almost  as  fast. 
With  a  judicious  leap  he  sprang  at  the  reins, 
pjutched  them,  stumbled,  recovered  and  still  ran, 


12  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

He  was  strong  of  arm  and  at  least  twelve  stones 
in  weight  The  horse,  already  half -repentant  of  his 
lapse,  was  not  inclined  to  support  so  heavy  a  burden 
at  his  mouth.  A  few  yards  more  and  the  heroic 
part  of  the  episode  was  over.  Several  officious 
touts  were  holding  the  horse's  head,  and  another 
policeman  was  preparing  to  make  notes. 

Lionel,  panting  from  the  unusual  exertion,  turned 
to  look  after  the  lady.  She,  who  had  behaved  with 
such  admirable  composure  while  danger  was  im- 
minent, now  that  it  was  over,  lay  in  a  faint.  As 
he  raised  her  in  his  arms  he  noticed  with  satisfaction 
that  she  was  certainly  beautiful  and  her  clothes  ex- 
pensive and  tasteful.  "Ha!  ha!"  he  thought 
whimsically,  "a  secretaryship!  Governor  of  a 
Crown  Colony  at  least!  I  must  take  a  flat  to- 
morrow ! "  He  bore  her  into  a  chemist's  shop  that 
stood  conveniently  near,  and  placed  her  in  a  chair. 
While  the  chemist  was  applying  sal  volatile  in  the 
genteelest  manner,  Lionel  was  wondering  whom  he 
should  ask  to  support  him  at  St.  George's. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  lady  recovered  her 
senses,  and  she  opened  her  eyes  with  a  ravishing 
sigh.  She  was  naturally  bewildered,  and  Lionel  — 
partly  because  he  wished  to  reassure  her,  partly 


THE  HERO  AND  THE  DAMSEL       13 

because  she  was  very  pretty  —  knelt  and  took  her 
hand. 

"  There  is  no  need  for  alarm,"  he  said  per- 
suasively, with  the  purring  note  that  some  women 
find  sympathetic.  "You  fainted;  that  is  all." 

She  gave  the  ghost  of  a  shudder:    "  I  fainted?  " 

"  Yes.  The  horset  ran  away,  but  there  was  no 
accident." 

"The  coachman  —  is  he  hurt?" 

This  thought  for  another  in  the  midst  of  her  own 
recovery  flushed  Lionel's  being  like  a  draught  of 
wine.  Hitherto  she  had  been  merely  a  pretty  aristo- 
crat and  (apparently)  a  delightful  girl.  Now  she 
was  more  —  a  divine  human  whom  he  longed  to 
kiss,  caress  and  call  "  You  darling !  " 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  He  fell  softly.  Upon  a  con- 
stable, I  believe." 

She  was  nearly  herself  again,  and  gave  a  little 
laugh.  "  Let  us  hope  he  was  a  fat  one,"  she  said. 
And  then,  after  a  pause :  "  Who  stopped  the 
horse?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  lucky  enough  to  do  that,"  he  re- 
plied with  an  assumed  jauntiness,  wishing  he  could 
feel  it  was  an  every-day  business.  "  It  was  not 
hard." 


14  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Others  appeared  to  think  differently,"  she  re- 
plied with  a  grave  admiration  that  pleased  him. 

"  Then,  madam,  they  can  not  have  seen  you,"  he 
smiled.  Really,  the  affair  was  being  conducted  on 
correct  lines. 

She  mused  for  a  moment,  chin  in  hand. 

"...  I  think,"  she  said  presently,  "  you  must 
be  rather  an  unusual  man."  Lionel  tried  to  look 
as  if  he  disagreed.  "  Yes,  I  think  so.  ...  And 
I  suppose  I  owe  you  my  life.  ...  I  wonder  what 
reward  ..." 

It  must  have  been  the  devil  that  prompted  Li- 
onel to  say,  "One  pound,  three  and  sevenpence"; 
but  by  an  effort  he  choked  back  the  horrible  words, 
and  stammered  that  he  was  already  repaid. 

"  No,"  she  demurred,  smiling,  searching  him  with 
her  eyes :  "  that  is  hardly  fair.  I  wonder  if  you 
would  like  ..."  She  glanced  round.  The  chem- 
ist's back  was  turned:  he  was  groping  for  some 
drug  upon  the  shelves.  Lionel  was  still  upon  one 
knee,  his  face  upturned,  his  eyes  drawn  as  by  a 
magnet.  She  leaned  toward  him;  her  face  came 
closer  and  closer  yet,  in  her  eyes  a  world  of  grati- 
tude and  fun.  Her  hair  almost  brushed  his  cheek, 

and  he  shivered.  "  I  wonder  if "  At  that 

moment  the  chemist  turned,  and  she  finished  the 


THE  HERO  AND  THE  DAMSEL       15 

sentence  persuasively,  " — if  you  could  get  me  a 
cab?  I  dare  not  trust  my  horse  again  to-day." 

Lionel  rose  stiffly. 

"  Do  you  prefer,"  he  asked,  fixing  the  unhappy 
and  bewildered  chemist  with  a  glare  of  anger,  "  a 
hansom  or  a  taxi  ?  " 

"A  taxi,  please." 

Lionel  withdrew.  He  ordered  the  coachman, 
dusty  and  degraded,  to  drive  home.  The  police- 
man, who  had  salved  the  discomfiture  of  his  over- 
throw by  hectoring  the  crowd  and  cuffing  the  near- 
est urchins,  obligingly  blew  his  whistle.  A  minute 
later  a  taxi  came  up. 


CHAPTER  II 

BEHIND  THE   SCENES 

IT  was  one  of  the  great  moments  in  Lionel's  life 
when  he  handed  her  into  the  prosaic  vehicle. 
From  the  chemist's  shop  to  the  cab  was  only  a 
few  feet,  but  for  that  paltry  space  the  young  man 
felt  as  a  king  must  feel  when  he  makes  a  royal 
progress  abroad.  There  was  no  cheering  from  the 
crowd  that  had  gathered,  hoping  for  blood,  or  at 
least  bandages;  but  the  whispers  ("That's  him! 
That's  him!  Torfs!  He's  all  right!"  etc.)  thrilled 
him  with  a  sense  of  self-importance  to  which  he  had 
long  been  a  stranger.  He  found  it  a  little  difficult  to 
refrain  from  raising  his  hat  and  bowing  his  thanks 
to  the  kindly  creatures.  As  for  the  lady,  she  walked 
on  air  and  seemed  unconscious  of  an  audience. 

The  cab  was  reached  all  too  soon.  Lionel  waved 
aside  a  cloud  of  would-be  helpers,  and  with  a  sigh 
of  misery  opened  the  door.  The  lady  got  in;  but 
just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  shutting  himself  off 
from  every  hope,  she  leaned  forward. 

"  There  is  room  for  two !"  she  breathed. 
16 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES  17 

It  was  a  fine  thing  for  him  that  his  hand  was 
upon  the  door,  for  the  invitation  shook  him  as  the 
wind  the  rushes.  The  crowd,  the  pavement,  even 
the  gross  material  substance  of  the  constable,  reeled 
before  him.  He  heard  but  dimly  the  voice  of  the 
chauffeur  asking  whither  he  was  to  drive.  "  To 
Heaven ! "  he  muttered,  and  then  recklessly,  "  Or 
hell,  if  you  like!  "  The  chauffeur  looked  anxiously 
at  him,  fearing  he  had  suffered  mentally  from  his 
exertions.  Lionel  caught  the  suspicion  in  his  eye 
and  steadied  himself.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he 
said  brokenly;  "I  was  repeating  some  poetry  of 
my  childhood  —  Paradise  Lost  —  Milton,  you 
know.  Can't  imagine  what  put  it  in  my  head. 
Drive  round  and  round  the  park." 

"  Which  park  ?  "  asked  the  man  gruffly. 

"  The  farthest  and  biggest,"  said  Lionel,  and 
clambered  in. 

They  drove  for  several  minutes  without  a 
word  being  spoken.  Lionel  was  so  amazed  by  the 
aptness  and  desirability  of  the  adventure  that  he 
could  not  utter  a  word.  He  could  only  think, 
"  What  a  perfectly  topping  girl!  How  will  it  end? 
What  shall  I  do  —  say  —  think  ?  She  is  the  most 
charming  creature  I  have  met ;  she  invites  a  kiss  — 
might  I?  ...  Be  careful,  Lionel!  Your  fortune 


18  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

is  at  stake!  The  secretaryship!  Mrs.  Barker  and 
her  rent!  A  false  step  would  ruin  all!  Besides, 
she  is  such  a  dear  .  .  ."  These  and  a  hundred 
other  fancies  flickered  through  his  brain. 

The  strange  lady  was  silent,  too.  It  may  have 
been  that  she  felt  she  had  been  a  little  imprudent  in 
her  invitation  to  the  cavalier,  hero  though  he  was. 
Leaning  back  against  the  cushion,  she  gazed  pen- 
sively out  of  the  window  at  the  streets  and  traffic, 
lost  in  thought.  Her  companion  stared  fixedly  at 
the  stolid  back  of  the  chauffeur:  that,  at  least,  was 
real  and  a  corrective. 

It  was  the  lady  who  spoke  first,  and  with  a  sym- 
pathetic engaging  accent,  nicely  calculated  to  stir 
the  most  sluggish  blood. 

"Well?"  she  said. 

Lionel  awoke  from  his  trance  and  turned. 
"  Ah ! "  he  murmured,  and  seized  her  hand.  He 
raised  it  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it  with  a  passionate 
reverence.  "  Ah !  "  he  said  again,  and  "  Ah !  " 
punctuating  the  exclamations  with  tender  salutes. 

"  You  should  not  do  that,"  reproved  the  lady, 
though  her  voice  betrayed  neither  astonishment  nor 
indignation.  "  It  is  foolish."  She  laughed  music- 
ally. 

"  Foolish ! "  echoed  Lionel  with  a  fine  contempt. 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES  19 

"Madam,  it  is  anything  but  that.  If  this  be  fool- 
ishness, then  youth  and  joy  and  a  careless  heart  are 
folly,  and  woman  is  folly— 

"  I  thought  that  men  were  agreed  upon  that," 
she  said. 

"  Cynics  and  pedagogues  may  hold  the  heresy," 
admitted  Lionel,  "  but  not  the  happy,  the  young  and 
the  wise." 

"  Your  youth  and  happiness  are  patent,"  she  le- 
torted,  "  but  how  am  I  to  be  sure  of  your  wis- 
dom?" 

He  laughed. 

"If  you  accept  my  youth  and  gaiety,  I  have  good 
hopes  of  convincing  you  of  that." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  from  his  ardent  clasp, 
as  if  he  had  been  too  presumptuous,  or  at  least 
premature.  Lionel  cursed  himself  for  a  coxcomb 
and  hastened  to  make  his  peace. 

"You  are  not  angry?"  he  asked  anxiously.  "  I 
have  not  offended  you ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  after  an  infinitesimal  pause.  "  I 
am  .  .  .  not  .  .  .  angry." 

There  was  a  query  in  her  tone  that  restored  his 
self-confidence,  a  quality  of  which  he  had  usually 
good  store.  With  a  resolute  movement  he  took 
her  in  his  arms.  Possibly  she  was  too  amazed  to 


20  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

protest ;  certainly  at  first  she  made  not  the  least  re- 
sistence  to  the  onset.  It  was  not  until  his  lips 
touched  hers  that  she  gave  a  little  cry  as  of  shame. 
"  No,  no !  "  she  pleaded.  "You  must  not  .  .  .  my 
husband  .  .  ." 

Lionel  was  a  man  of  the  world,  but  as  chance 
would  have  it,  he  was  a  man  of  honor,  too.  He 
dropped  the  lady  like  a  hot  coal  at  the  appalling 
word,  and  sat  back  rigid  in  his  own  corner  of  the 
cab.  His  companion,  mastered  by  emotion,  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands.  Presently  she  peeped  be- 
tween her  fingers  and  repeated  his  words,  almost 
his  accent. 

"  You  are  .  .  .  not  .  .  .  angry  ?  " 

"I  am  never  angry  with  a  woman,"  he  replied; 
but  the  lie  was  obvious.  She  laid  a  soft  hand  upon 
his  arm. 

"  You  have  not  told  me  your  name  yet,"  she 
murmured.  "  I  must  always  cherish  in  my  mem- 
ory a  brave  man  who  is  not  too  brave  to  be  a  gen- 
tleman." 

He  moved  uneasily,  reflecting  that  noblesse  some- 
times finds  it  difficult  to  oblige. 

"  I  am  called  Lionel  Mortimer." 

"  I  am  called  Beatrice  Blair.  Lionel  .  .  ."  she 
went  on  with  a  reflective  sweetness,  and  he  started 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES  21 

as  if  stung.  Her  hand  restrained  while  it  aroused 
him.  "  No :  you  must  not  mind  that.  I  call  you 
Lionel  because  " —  she  turned  aside  as  if  struggling 
with  her  feelings  — "  I  am  a  mother.  My  little  boy 
is  called  —  was  called  Lionel." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said  sincerely.     "  Go  on." 

"  You  must  think  hardly  of  me."  He  shook  his 
head.  "  Yes,  you  must  —  it  is  only  natural.  But  I 
should  like  you  to  know  the  reason  why  I  asked  you 
to " 

By  this  time  Lionel  was  in  a  very  good  humor 
with  himself.  Warned  by  his  recent  heroism  and 
virtue,  flattered  by  the  interest  shown  in  him  by 
this  delightful  creature,  he  was  prepared  for  any- 
thing. 

"  I  never  ask  a  woman  for  a  reason,"  he  said, 
smiling.  "  I  have  the  most  complete  faith." 

"How  old  are  you?"  she  asked;  and  when  he 
answered  "  Twenty-seven,"  she  laughed. 

They  drove  in  silence  for  a  space;  presently  she 
asked  what  time  it  was.  He  put  his  hand  to  his 
pocket  and  then  withdrew  it.  She  had  observed  the 
action  —  "  Your  pocket  has  been  picked?  " 

"  No,"  he  said  frankly.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  pawned  my  watch  a  week  ago." 


22  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Then  you  are  poor ! "  she  cried  impulsively. 
"Oh !  I  beg  your  pardon, —  I  did  not  mean " 

Lionel  was  never  disconcerted  by  his  lack  of 
means,  and  the  chuckle  was  perfectly  honest  as  he 
replied,  "  Distinctly  poor.  I  am  glad  to  think  I  can 
still  create  an  illusion  of  wealth  in  an  artificial  light, 
but  really  I  am  worth  very  little." 

"  You  do  not  mind  ?  "  she  said,  her  eyes  danc- 
ing. 

"  I  admit,"  he  said,  "  that  I  should  prefer  to  be 
well  off.  But,  being  poor,  I  see  no  use  in  making 
myself  unhappy.  I  should  prefer  to  pay  half  a 
guinea  for  a  stall  rather  than  a  shilling  for  the  gal- 
lery. Still,  I  contrive  pretty  tolerably  to  enjoy  the 
play." 

"  You  are  a  philosopher,"  she  approved. 

"  A  poor  man  can't  afford  to  be  anything  else." 

After  a  pause  she  said,  "  It  must  be  getting  late. 
Will  you  please  tell  the  man  to  drive  to  the  Ma- 
cready  Theater?  —  the  stage-door." 

He  opened  the  window,  smiling  to  himself.  "  An 
actress!  "  he  thought;  "the  young  man's  dream  of 
an  adventure!  This  is  absurdly  conventional." 
After  directing  the  chauffeur,  he  sat  back,  wonder- 
ing what  the  end  would  be,  content  to  wait  on  for- 
tune. The  lady,  too,  did  not  speak  again  until  they 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES  23 

had  almost  reached  their  destination.  Then  she 
took  a  purse  from  her  satchel  and  said  with  friendly 
good-humor,  "  This  is  my  frolic,  and  I  wish  to  pay 
for  it.  Please !  " 

Lionel  was  too  well-bred  to  interpose  bourgeois 
objections.  Besides,  it  was  a  case  of  necessity:  his 
sixpence-ha'penny  had  been  burning  a  hole  in  his 
pocket  for  the  last  ten  minutes. 

"  Fair  lady,"  he  said  lightly,  "  I  would  if  I  could, 
but  I  can  not.  Five  shillings  will  be  more  than 
enough." 

She  gave  him  half  a  sovereign,  and  he  wished  he 
had  been  a  street  arab  to  whom  she  could  have  said, 
"  And  keep  the  change."  This,  however,  was 
clearly  impossible^  nor  did  it  appear  to  enter  the 
lady's  head.  After  he  had  paid  the  man  she  re- 
ceived the  balance  with  a  careless  gravity.  He 
raised  his  hat. 

"  You  are  not  going?  "  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"  Unless  I  can  be  of  further  service." 

"But  that  is  why  I  have  brought  you  here!  You 
have  not  heard  my  reason  yet,  and  you  must  —  at 
least  in  justice  to  myself.  This  is  only  the  begin- 
ning: you  can  be  of  the  greatest  service  if  you  will. 
Come!" 

Lionel  followed  her  through  the  stage-door,    Ad- 


24  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

venture  beckoned,  and  he  was  not  the  man  to  dis- 
obey the  seductive  finger.  True,  the  lady  had  a  hus- 
band —  a  scurvy  thought  —  but  he  had  proved  him- 
self as  strong  as  she.  And  she  was  deucedly  pretty. 

They  passed  the  janitor,  who  touched  his  hat 
to  the  lady,  and  went  along  a  passage.  Then  up 
a  flight  of  stairs  and  down  another  corridor,  where 
sundry  couples  were  lounging  and  chatting  between 
their  entrances.  It  was  evidently  a  costume  play, 
and  the  sight  of  doublets,  rapiers  and  helmets  was 
a  pleasant  thing  after  the  drabness  of  the  threshold. 
Illusion  again  threw  her  veil  over  the  crudities  of 
life;  romance  sounded  the  horn  of  hope  and  hal- 
looed Lionel  to  the  pursuit. 

The  lady  stopped  suddenly  before  a  door.  This 
she  opened  and  entered  the  room  beyond.  Lionel 
followed,  closed  the  door,  and  looked  about  him. 
He  was  no  stranger  to  the  regions  "  behind,"  for  in 
his  younger  days  he  had  been  the  friend  of  many 
actors  and  actresses  not  a  few.  With  the  dressing- 
rooms  of  the  men  he  was  well  acquainted, —  those 
dingy  color-washed  chambers,  lighted  by  flaring  gas, 
divided  by  racks  for  dresses,  equipped  at  times  with 
but  the  washing-basin,  stifling  of  atmosphere,  with 
little  room  to  turn  about  in.  In  his  younger  days, 
as  has  been  observed,  he  had  savored  the  delights 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES  25 

of  these  unromantic  barracks,  and  had  thoroughly 
enjoyed  the  experience;  now  he  was  blase. 

Of  the  women's  dressing-rooms  he  was  ignorant, 
but  in  truth  he  was  far  from  curious.  He  supposed 
they  were  something  of  a  replica  of  what  he  had 
seen  already, —  four  or  five  creatures  herded  in  a 
bare  loose-box,  in  the  intervals  of  painting  and 
dressing,  engaged  with  talk  of  frills  or  scandal.  The 
private  dressing-rooms  of  those  great  creatures,  the 
leading  men  and  ladies,  were  still  a  sealed  book.  He 
had  never  known  (oh,  horrid  thought!)  a  "lead," 
and  he  surveyed  the  present  room  with  interest. 

There  was  little  to  reward  him,  for  it  was  a  very 
ordinary  room,  quietly  furnished  with  two  or  three 
easy  chairs,  a  dressing-table  covered  with  "  making- 
up  "  apparatus,  a  number  of  photographs  scattered 
about  in  various  coigns  of  vantage,  a  wall-paper  of 
a  warm  terra-cotta  tint,  a  soft  carpet  to  correspond. 
A  brass  curtain-rod  divided  the  room  in  two,  but 
the  curtain  was  not  drawn.  "  Will  you  sit  down  ?  " 
said  the  hostess ;  "  I  must  leave  you  for  a  moment. 
Try  that  chair  in  the  corner, —  it  is  the  best.  And 
do  smoke  —  the  cigarettes  are  close  to  you  on  that 
little  table." 

With  a  swift  movement  she  pulled  the  curtain 
along  its  rod  and  disappeared  behind  it.  There 


26  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

followed  a  slight  clicking  as  if  she  was  switching 
on  more  light;  then  a  soft  rustling  and  the  sound 
of  her  voice  humming  an  air  from  Carmen.  Lionel 
obediently  lighted  a  cigarette  and  patiently  awaited 
events. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes  she  drew  the  curtain  and 
stood  before  him  again.  But  now  she  was  a  dif- 
ferent creature.  Her  Bond  Street  costume  had  dis- 
appeared, the  twentieth-century  had  gone.  The 
piquant  head  was  covered  only  with  the  dark  masses 
of  hair  that  gleamed  seductively.  She  was  clad  in 
a  sort  of  peignoir,  a  loose  flowing  robe  of  Oriental 
texture,  crimson  of  hue,  with  dull  gold  braiding  and 
tassels.  Her  face  was  rouged  and  powdered,  but 
in  the  brilliant  electric  glare  it  seemed  neither  out 
of  keeping  nor  meretricious.  As  she  stood,  hold- 
ing the  drawn  curtain  with  one  hand,  she  looked  as 
if  she  had  stepped  straight  out  of  the  pages  of  the 
Arabian  Nights. 

"Do  you  like  it?"  she  asked  carelessly,  sure  of 
the  effect.  Poor  Lionel,  on  most  occasions  ready 
of  tongue,  who  took  a  pride  in  never  showing  sur- 
prise, could  only  murmur  "  Admirable !  "  With 
this,  however,  she  seemed  content,  and  sat  down  in 
a  convenient  chair. 

"  Luckily,  it  is  a  straight  make-up,"   she  said, 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES  27 

taking  a  cigarette  and  lighting  it.  "  As  a  rule  I 
use  grease-paint,  but  to-night  I  was  in  a  hurry  and 
made-up  dry.  I  want  to  talk.  I  am  not  on  for  a 
while,  and  my  dress  can  be  slipped  on  in  five  min- 
utes. I  mean  to  tell  you  as  briefly  as  I  can  my  his- 
tory. It  is  your  due." 

Lionel  made  a  noble  gesture  of  dissent.  "  I  am 
sure,"  he  said  chivalrously,  "  it  is  all  it  should  have 
been—" 

She  interrupted  with  some  acerbity.  "  That  is  not 
my  reason.  I  have  nothing  either  to  excuse  or  con- 
done. But  as  I  have  already  put  you  to  consider- 
able trouble,  and  mean  (if  you  are  willing  to  help, 
me)  to  put  you  to  still  more,  it  is  but  fair  that  you 
should  know  all." 

Lionel  bowed  as  gracefully  as  he  could. 

"  I  will  make  it  as  short  as  I  can,"  she  continued. 
"  There  is  much  that  is  strange  and  improbable  in 
it,  but  I  beg  you  to  keep  silent  and  forbear  to  ques- 
tion me  until  the  end.  I  was  born  in  a  little  village 
on  the  southeast  coast.  I  was  a  twin,  the  other 
child  being  a  sister,  the  replica  of  myself.  My 
mother  died  when  I  was  only  two  years  old.  When 
I  was  seventeen  I  was  kidnaped  by  a  tribe  of  Ru- 
manian gipsies  who  wished  to  be  revenged  on  my 
father.  He  had  prosecuted  some  of  them  for 


28  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

poaching  on  his  land.  I  was  smuggled  to  the  coast, 
and  then  across  to  the  continent. 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  waste  time  in  lingering  over 
details  immaterial  to  my  purpose.  Were  I  writing 
a  book  I  could  fill  a  volume  with  the  strange  inci- 
dents of  my  abduction  and  wanderings.  But  as 
time  is  short  I  will  come  to  the  point  at  once.  We 
journeyed  by  slow  stages  across  the  continent,  and 
of  course  I  was  jealously  guarded  the  whole  time. 
My  English  dress  was  burned,  my  skin  stained  a 
brownish  hue.  Whenever  observation  threatened  I 
was  immured  in  a  small  black  hole,  made  at  the 
end  of  one  of  the  caravans  by  a  false  partition. 
The  police  failed  to  trace  me,  for  the  gipsies  had 
been  cunning  enough  to  stay  some  weeks  in  Eng- 
land after  my  capture  to  throw  my  relatives  off  the 
scent,  keeping  a  strict  watch  upon  me.  So  with 
this  inadequate  resume  you  must  realize  that  we 
have  passed  through  Germany,  Austria,  Rumania, 
Bulgaria  and  Rumelia.  We  crossed  the  Turkish 
frontier,  and  I  still  had  no  plan  of  escape.  Oh, 
yes!  I  had  tried  —  once!  The  threats  they  used 
on  my  detection  were  more  than  enough  to  prevent 
me  trying  a  second  time. 

"  At  last  we  reached  Constantinople,  where  we 
stayed  a  night  in  a  huge  caravansary.  I  was  too 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES  39 

well  watched  to  be  able  to  write  a  letter.  The  next 
evening  I  was  sold  to  a  Turkish  officer  of  the  sul- 
tan's body-guard.  Blindfolded  and  gagged,  I  was 
put  into  a  kind  of  sedan-chair  under  cover  of  dark- 
ness and  carried  to  his  palace.  I  was  escorted  to 
a  fine  suite  of  apartments,  furnished  in  the  eastern 
manner,  but  lit  with  electric  light.  By  this 
time  I  was  so  inured  to  tribulation  that  I  slept 
peacefully  the  whole  night. 

"  The  next  morning  the  lord  of  the  household 
arrived.  He  salaamed  profoundly  and  plunged  at 
once  into  the  business  of  the  day.  '  Fair  lady/  he 
began  —  and  I  was  surprised  at  his  excellent  Eng- 
lish and  supreme  courtesy  — '  believe  me  when  I 
say  that  I  regret  your  sufferings.  But  as  I  am  not 
the  man  to  beat  about  the  bush,  I  make  bold  to  in- 
form you,  with  all  possible  respect  and  determina- 
tion, that  you  are  destined  to  become  my  wife.' 

"  I  was  not  unprepared  for  this,  but  replied  firmly 
that  I  would  never  marry  any  one  against  my  will. 
I  added  that  I  was  a  British  subject,  and  that  as 
soon  as  my  plight  was  known  I  should  be  rescued 
and  vengeance  exacted. 

"  He  laughed  pleasantly.  '  This  is  not  England,' 
he  said,  '  and  you  will  never  be  rescued.  Let  me 
put  the  matter  plainly.  I  have  bought  you  to  satisfy 


30  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

a  whim.  I  have  long  wished  for  an  English  wife, 
because  I  happen  to  admire  English  women  more 
than  any  others.  I  have  made  efforts  to  contract 
an  alliance  by  orthodox  methods,  but  have  not  suc- 
ceeded. Set  your  mind  at  rest,  however;  I  intend 
no  violence  against  your  lovely  person.  If  you  re- 
fuse me,  you  will  remain  a  prisoner  in  a  gilded  cage, 
but  no  harm  shall  come  to  you/ 

"  '  But  why '  I  began.     He  waved  his  hand. 

"  '  Because  I  could  wish  that  you  might  learn  to 
love  me.  At  present  I  can  not  expect  it;  for  the 
future,  who  knows?  I  am  a  bachelor  by  choice 
—  you  need  have  no  western  fears  of  polygamy. 
I  am  rich,  young  and  powerful.  And  I  hope  that 
you  will  find  out  that,  though  of  another  civiliza- 
tion, I  can  fulfil  your  idea  of  a  gentleman.  For  the 
present  your  jailer  and  lover  bids  you  farewell.' 

"  He  left  me  in  a  state  of  stupefaction.  For  some 
days  after  this  I  saw  nothing  of  him.  I  was  treated 
with  the  utmost  respect,  as  if  I  were  mistress  of 
the  household,  but  I  was  a  prisoner.  I  was  allowed 
to  walk  in  the  spacious  high-walled  garden ;  but  de- 
voted slaves  were  close  at  hand  to  prevent  my  com- 
municating with  the  outer  world. 

"  After  a  week  had  elapsed,  Lukos  —  for  that 
was  my  master's  name  —  began  to  pay  regular  vis- 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES  31 

its  to  my  chamber.  He  exerted  himself  to  the  ut- 
most to  interest  and  charm,  but  as  yet  he  never  men- 
tioned love.  He  would  talk  of  a  thousand  things 
—  books,  philosophy,  the  drama,  even  of  fashion  — 
and  being  most  versatile  and  accomplished,  I  found 
him  excellent  company.  I  did  not  feel  much  re- 
sentment, for  I  had  begun  to  learn  the  world  and 
understand  his  point  of  view,  but  I  was  inflexibly 
opposed  to  a  marriage  by  force.  I  was  resolved  to 
die  a  captive,  if  necessary,  rather  than  yield. 

"  This  went  on  for  two  years.  You  start  ?  It  is 
true.  No  breath  of  my  imprisonment  reached  the 
embassy  —  much  less  my  home.  For  a  captive,  my 
life  was  easy,  and  during  the  long  months  my  hopes 
had  died,  though  my  determination  was  as  English 
and  stubborn  as  ever.  Lukos  was  equally  persist- 
ent in  maintaining  his  original  attitude  —  gentle, 
persuasive,  polite,  though  now  he  often  urged  his 
suit.  I  admit  that  in  other  circumstances  I  might 
have  yielded,  but  pride  kept  me  strong. 

"  But  I  must  hurry  on  — " 

As  she  said  these  words  there  was  a  knock,  and 
a  dresser  entered. 

"  Twenty  minutes,  Miss  Blair,"  she  said,  with- 
out a  glance  at  Lionel. 

"  More  than  enough,"  said  the  strange  lady,  but 


32  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

she  rose  as  she  spoke.  "  You  will  stay  to  hear  the 
end,  Mr.  Mortimer?  I  am  on  for  most  of  this  act, 
but  if  you  find  it  interesting,  please  stay  and  smoke. 
You  must  excuse  me." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Lionel,  rising.  "  Shall 
I—?" 

He  looked  toward  the  door.  "  Oh,  no ! "  she 
replied,  and  drew  the  curtain  once  more.  Then 
she  and  the  dresser  disappeared  behind  it.  A  brief 
interval  elapsed  and  she  came  forth  dressed  to  play 
her  part.  She  threw  him  a  bright  smile  as  he 
sprang  to  the  door.  "  You  must  theorize  till  I 
come  again,"  she  said  cheerfully,  and  he  smiled 
back.  The  dresser  followed  her  mistress,  and  he 
was  left  alone. 


CHAPTER  III 

CONFIDENCES 

i  'ATMHS,"  thought  Lionel,  as  he  waited  for  her 
JL  return,  "  is  a  queer  business,  a  very  queer 
business  indeed.  Here  we  have  the  indispen- 
sable ingredients  for  an  adventure  —  night,  a 
pretty  actress,  and  an  impecunious  young  man  who 
has  played  the  Noble  'Ero.  What  happens?  The 
lady  sweeps  the  'Ero  off  in  a  chariot,  takes  him  to 
her  dressing-room,  behaves  with  surprising  pro- 
priety (quite  like  an  ordinary  mortal,  in  fact),  and 
proceeds  to  tell  him  a  tale  worthy  of  a  writer  of 
feuilletons.  What  does  it  mean?  What  is  the 
idea,  the  general  scheme  ?  The  tale  must  be  lies, — 
pure,  unvarnished  buncombe,  in  the  language  of  the 
vulgar.  It  is  too  much  to  swallow  a  kidnaping,  a 
tour  through,  let  me  see  ...  Germany,  Austria, 
Rumania,  and,  h'm  .  .  .  h'm  .  .  .  Bulgaria  and 
Rumelia;  a  bashi-bazouk  in  Constantinople,  a 
forced  marriage  —  I  suppose  that's  bound  to  come 
—  and  all  the  rest.  .  .  .  No,  my  delightful 

charmer,  this  really  is  a  little  bit  too  much  .  .  .. 

33 


34  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

your  emotional  faculties  and  the  life  of  the  foot- 
lights have  led  you  astray.  .  ." 

But  he  shook  his  head,  dissatisfied.  The  simple 
explanation  that  she  was  telling  lies  was  too  simple. 
It  explained  nothing.  The  remembrance  of  her  de- 
licious personality  sent  incredulity  to  the  right- 
about. Her  gracious  presence,  dignified,  command- 
ing, womanly;  her  brilliant  eyes,  shining  with 
purity,  sympathy  and  truth;  her  force  of  character 
that  revealed  itself  in  every  tone  and  gesture;  her 
pretty  hands  .  .  .  these  and  a  hundred  other  wit- 
nesses battled  in  her  favor.  "  Besides,"  he  thought, 
striving  to  weigh  all  evidence  impartially,  "  what 
possible  object  could  she  have  in  lying  to  me  —  to 
me  of  all  people?  She  knows  I  am  poor  and  use- 
less for  purposes  of  blackmail.  She  is  too  ethereal 
a  creature  for  a  vulgar  intrigue  —  of  that  I  am  as 
sure  as  that  I  am  neither  mad  nor  dreaming.  No ; 
the  bare  hard  facts  go  to  prove  that  she  is  telling 
the  truth.  Again,  why  should  she  lie  to  the  'Ero 
who  has  saved  her  life?  Surely  the  'Ero  may 
bring  that  forward  with  justice. — '  Not  guilty,  my 
lord!'  '  he  said  aloud,  acquitting  the  fair  defend- 
ant with  a  convinced  enthusiasm,  for  he  was  really 
glad  to  believe  the  new  goddess  a  goddess  indeed. 
Then  for  a  moment  doubt  returned :  "  But  this 


CONFIDENCES  35 

room  —  this  girl  —  the  whole  adventure  is  so  fan- 
tastic, the  tale  so  unlikely,  that  I  can  hardly  .  .  . 
Lionel,  enough!  It  may  be  true,  and  the  evidence 
is  in  her  favor.  Be  content  to  wait  on  events.  At 
least,  it  is  a  variation  from  the  normal  —  an  agree- 
able break  in  the  monotony  of  Mrs.  Barker  and 
the  world.  Let  me  seize  the  moment,  enjoy  my 
brief  hour,  and  allow  the  future  to  take  care  of 
itself.  At  worst,  I  can  be  no  loser  at  the  game 
...  no  ...  unless  I  fall  in  love  with  her.  .  .  . 
But  that  must  not  happen  ...  it  must  not  happen. 
.  .  .  Still,  I  could  wish  she  had  no  husband ! " 

The  wish  being  vain,  if  not  immoral,  he  laughed 
wryly  at  himself  and  picked  up  a  book  that  he  found 
lying  on  the  mantelpiece.  It  was  a  little  volume  of 
light  verse,  and  it  whiled  away  the  time  until  his 
hostess  reappeared.  This  was  about  half  an  hour 
after  her  exit.  She  entered,  radiant  with  triumph. 

"Has  it  seemed  long?"  she  asked,  pulling  back 
the  curtain  and  drawing  out  a  chair. 

"  An  eternity,"  he  answered  smoothly  enough, 
rising  and  closing  the  door.  "  And  now  the  rest 
of  your  wonderful  story,  if  you  are  not  too  tired." 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  said ;  "  but  it  sounds  odd  to 
hear  you  call  it  '  wonderful.'  To  me,  who  lived 
it,  it  seemed  inevitable  and  ordinary:  even  now  it 


36  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

hardly  seems  wonderful.  But  this  is  waste  of 
time.  I  must  try  to  hurry  the  crisis.  .  .  .  Let  me 
see,  where  did  I  stop?  ...  Ah!  I  remember 
now.  .  .  . 

"  Well,  I  lived  two  years  a  prisoner,  and  time 
dulled  my  pain.  Escape  was  hopeless,  and  I  tried 
to  be  as  cheerful  as  I  could.  No  news  reached  me 
of  the  outer  world  —  I  did  not  even  know  whether 
my  father  and  sister  were  alive.  That  was  hard, 
but  I,  too,  learned  hardness  from  experience. 

"  One  morning  Lukos  came  to  my  room  as  usual, 
but  not  in  his  usual  spirits.  I  rallied  him  on  his 
dulness  (oh!  we  were  good  friends,  in  spite  of  the 
anomalous  position;  that  is  really  the  least  surpris- 
ing feature  of  the  story!),  but  he  did  not  respond. 
When  at  last  he  walked  toward  the  window  and 
had  stood,  gloomily  at  gaze,  for  several  minutes,  I 
felt  alarmed.  He  had  never  been  in  such  a  mood 
before.  '  Lukos,'  I  said  gently,  '  what  is  the  mat- 
ter?' 

"  In  a  moment  he  was  at  my  feet,  pouring  forth 
a  torrent  of  words.  '  Heart  of  my  heart ! '  he  cried 
in  tones  that  would  have  racked  a  devil ;  '  can  you 
ask!  You  know  that  I  love  you,  for  my  eyes  and 
soul  have  spoken.  I  bought  you  as  merchandise, 
with  little  care;  I  have  learned  to  love  you  as  a 


CONFIDENCES  37 

woman  should  be  loved,  with  all  the  strength  of  my 
being,  the  force  of  my  spirit,  the  frenzy  of  a  mad- 
man that  rejoices  in  his  madness!  For  you  I  would 
do  anything  —  I  would  tear  the  sultan  from  his 
throne  —  I  would  seize  every  mosque  in  the  empire 
to  found  a  new  religion,  the  worship  of  yourself! 
I  am  your  master,  and  yet  the  meanest  of  your 
slaves !  You  can  stir  me  with  a  quiver  of  your  eye- 
lashes — ' 

"  *  Yet  you  will  not  set  me  free,'  I  said,  pitying, 
but  justly  reproachful. 

"  '  No,'  he  groaned.  *  I  love  you  so  much  that 
I  will  not  climb  the  heights  of  renunciation.  I  love 
you  enough  to  respect  your  defenselessness,  but  I 
can  not  let  you  go  to  be,  perhaps,  another's.  Oh, 
lady  of  my  soul,  can  you  not"  be  merciful?  Can 
you  not  unbend  from  your  divinity  and  love  me? 
Star  of  the  West,  can  you  not  illumine  an  eastern 
desert,  for  I  love  you  —  I  love  you ! ' 

"  Mountebank ! "  said  Lionel  with  a  fine  con- 
tempt. He  disliked  Lukos. 

"  He  had  a  poetic  nature,"  pouted  the  lady. 
"  Besides,  we  Occidentals,  colder  in  spirit,  less  im- 
aginative, must  make  allowances  for  exotic  passion. 
I  confess  that  his  words  moved  me.  But  I  took 
his  hand  and  said,  *  It  is  impossible,  my  friend.' ' 


38  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Ah !  "  said  Lionel,  taking  fresh  courage  and  a 
cigarette. 

"  My  words,"  she  continued,  "  seemed  to  carry 
conviction.  I  felt  a  hot  tear  fall  on  my  hand,  and 
there  was  silence.  The  next  moment  he  stood  up 
and  salaamed  gravely.  '  Lady  of  my  dreams,'  he 
said,  *  you  have  conquered.  I  will  let  you  go  ... 
at  a  price ! ' 

"'What  is  the  price?'  I  asked  fearfully.  He 
looked  like  a  martyr. 

"  My  life,"  he  replied.  'I  can  give  you  up,  but 
I  can  not  live  without  you.  You  are  free,  but  I 
must  die.' ' 

"  Damned  actor !  "  burst  out  Lionel,  in  the  depths 
of  despair,  for  he  foresaw  the  end.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon  —  I  beg  your  pardon  —  but " 

"  He  really  meant  it,"  said  the  lady  with  some 
petulance.  "  Please  control  yourself  while  I  finish. 
Of  course  I  could  not  think  of  allowing  him  to  kill 
himself,  so  I  reasoned  with  him.  It  was  useless, 
for  he  was  resolved.  I  even  offered,  at  last,  to  re- 
sign my  freedom  and  remain  with  him  on  the  old 
terms :  again  he  refused.  '  No,'  he  said ;  '  it  can  not 
be,  Dispenser  of  Delight.  I  have  suffered  too 
much.  You  must  marry  me  or  bid  good-by  to  Tur- 
key.' " 


CONFIDENCES  39 

"  So  you  married  him  ?  "  said  Lionel  gloomily. 
He  had  forgotten  all  his  earlier  doubts. 

"  Yes.  I  could  not  bear  to  think  of  his  suicide, 
for  I  liked  him  very  well.  Besides,  I  had  grown 
less  sentimental  during  my  two  years  of  '  life/  and 
believed  I  should  find  more  happiness  in  such  a 
union  than  in  many  that  are  supposed  to  be  made 
for  '  love.'  But  I  must  admit  that  romance  found, 
and  still  finds,  a  corner  in  my  heart.  The  primi- 
tive idea  of  marriage  by  capture  is  even  now  im- 
mensely popular.  You  see,  the  figure  of  Lukos, 
passionate,  brave,  reckless,  fiery,  ready  to  kill  him- 
self  " 

"  Oh,  say  he  was  a  demigod,"  interrupted  Lionel 
with  bitterness,  "  and  let  us  pass  on." 

"  All  these  Byronic  attributes,"  said  the  lady 
calmly,  "  combined  to  whip  my  reluctant  liking  into 
a  passable  resemblance  to  love.  .  .  .  Well,  I  let 
him  go  —  as  far  as  the  door.  As  he  was  opening 
it  I  made  my  decision  and  whispered  '  Lukos! '  He 
turned,  looking  like  a  magnificent  tiger,  crouching 
for  a  spring.  A  light  gleamed  from  his  eyes,  rival- 
ing the  flash  of  his  jeweled  sword-hilt.  With  a 
bound " 

"Quite  so  —  quite  so!"  said  Lionel  uncomfort- 
ably: the  idea  of  being  audience  to  such  a  love- 


40  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

scene  was  most  repugnant.  "  I  see  —  I  see  .  .  . 
of  course  he  would  be  immensely  pleased  —  in  fact, 
quite  another  man.  Well,  you  married  him ?  " 

"  The  next  day,"  said  the  lady.  "  The  Patriarch 
of  Jerusalem,  who  happened  to  be  visiting  the  city 
at  the  time,  made  us  one.  And  then  I  settled  down 
to  what  I  imagined  would  be  a  peaceful  and  happy 
life. 

"  And  it  was  happy.  Of  course  I  now  had  as 
much  freedom  as  I  wished,  and  in  a  short  while 
moved  in  the  best  European  society  in  Constanti- 
nople. No  hint  of  my  story  got  abroad:  it  was 
understood  that  I  had  met  Lukos  in  London.  I 
wrote  to  my  sister,  telling  the  whole  story  and  en- 
joining secrecy.  She  replied  affectionately,  giving 
me  at  the  same  time  the  news  of  my  father's  death, 
three  months  earlier.  She  suggested  a  visit,  but 
various  trifling  incidents  —  such  as  influenza  and 
a  craze  for  Christian  Science  —  continually  post- 
poned it  until  it  was  too  late.  Lukos  and  I  also 
promised  ourselves  a  trip  to  England,  but  that,  too, 
never  came  about.  .  .  .  My  little  Lionel - 

The  listener  bounded  in  his  chair.  Then,  recol- 
lecting himself,  he  apologized'. 

"  —  My  little  Lionel  was  born  a  year  after  our 
marriage.  He  lived  three  weeks.  ...  At  the 


CONFIDENCES  41 


moment,  I  was  stricken;  but  in  a  very  short  time 
I  felt  that  he  was  fortunate.  The  end  came  thus — 

"  A  month  later  Lukos  entered  my  room  one 
afternoon  with  a  grave  face.  *  My  wife,'  he  said, 
'you  must  be  brave.  We  leave  Constantinople  to- 
night.' 

"'Why?'  I  asked. 

"  He  explained  hurriedly.  It  seemed  that  for 
months  past  the  sultan  had  been  intriguing  with 
a  foreign  power  against  Great  Britain.  Lukos  had 
got  wind  of  the  negotiations  and  knew  the  policy 
was  fatal.  He  recognized  that  the  interests  of  Tur- 
key were  bound  up  with  those  of  England.  He  re- 
solved to  foil  the  sultan's  plans.  Two  courses  were 
open  to  him  —  a  revolution  and  a  new  dynasty,  or 
a  disclosure  of  the  plan  to  England.  Averse  from 
plunging  his  country  into  civil  war,  he  resolved  to 
try  the  latter  first.  After  assiduous  bribing  he  se- 
cured a  draft  of  a  secret  treaty  between  the  Porte 
and  the  other  Power,  but  within  twenty- four  hours 
suspicion  fell  on  him.  He  was  warned  that  arrest 
was  imminent.  Flight  was  imperative. 

"  '  Disguise  yourself  as  a  pustchik  (water-car- 
rier) and  go  on  board  our  yacht  at  once,'  he  said. 
Then,  drawing  a  bundle  of  Cook's  vouchers  from 
his  pocket,  '  Take  these  in  case  anything  happens. 


42  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

And  this,  too  —  it  is  the  treaty.  If  anything  hap- 
pens to  me,  do  not  wait:  fly  to  England  and  take 
the  treaty  to  the  English  Foreign  Office.  I  can 
not  go  with  you  now  —  there  are  duties  to  be  done 
first  —  but  I  hope  to  join  you.  If  I  do  not  come  by 
eleven  o'clock,  weigh  anchor.  I  shall  have  died 
for  my  country.  You  will  do  this  for  the  sake  of 
Turkey  ? ' 

"  My  eyes  filled  with  tears,  but  I  knew  that  I 
could  serve  him  best  by  obedience.  '  Yes,  Lukos,' 
I  said,  and  his  eyes  spoke  his  gratitude.  We  em- 
braced and  parted. 

"  I  reached  the  yacht  safely  and  found  that  steam 
was  up  already.  The  afternoon  and  evening 
passed  like  a  heavy  dream.  At  half  past  ten  Lukos 
had  not  come.  A  quarter  to  eleven,  and  I  was 
still  alone.  At  eleven  o'clock  I  wept  (for  I  had 
grown  to  love  him  well),  but  I  was  true  to  my  prom- 
ise and  ordered  the  captain  to  start.  We  reached 
Brindisi  in  due  course,  and  there  I  determined  to 
go  overland  to  England,  sending  the  yacht  back  in 
the  hope  that  it  might  still  be  useful  to  my  husband 
if  by  any  chance  he  escaped.  I  did  this,  and  in  a 
very  short  time  found  myself  in  London." 

"  And  took  a  taxi  to  the  F.  O.  ?  "  said  Lionel  with 
interest.  Really,  it  was  a  most  exciting  story. 


CONFIDENCES  43 

"  No,"  said  the  lady.  "  The  day  I  reached  town 
a  note  was  left  at  my  hotel  —  I  had  been  dogged! 
It  was  written  in  Turkish  and  ran,  '  The  day  the 
British  government  receives  your  communication, 
that  day  your  husband  dies.'  There  was  neither 
address  nor  signature.  It  proved  that  I  and  my 
schemes  were  known,  but  —  it  proved  that  my  hus- 
band was  still  alive. 

"  This  gave  me  hope.  With  the  treaty  as  a  lever 
I  might  yet  free  Lukos.  I  have  been  working  to 
that  end  for  six  months  —  ever  since  I  came  to  Eng- 
land. It  is  a  slow  business,  this  diplomacy,  but  I 
am  beginning  to  have  strong  hopes.  And  now  I 
think  it  is  almost  the  time  to  strike." 

"  But  you  must  be  careful,"  said  Lionel  anx- 
iously. "With  such  a  document " 

She  smiled  faintly. 

"  Twice  already  they  have  made  attempts."  She 
opened  a  drawer  in  an  escritoire  near  at  hand. 
Within  lay  a  small  but  serviceable  revolver.  "  See ! 
I  always  go  armed.  Of  course  it  is  useless  to  ap- 
proach the  police  —  that  would  sign  Lukos'  death- 
warrant  at  once. 

"  But  to  return  and  finish  my  tale.  ...  As  soon 
as  possible  I  wrote  to  my  sister.  I  did  not  go  to 
her,  not  wishing  to  involve  her  in  my  perils.  I 


44  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

explained  as  much  of  the  situation  as  I  could,  hinted 
at  high  politics,  and  begged  her  not  to  see  me  till 
I  gave  the  word.  She  was  puzzled,  but  obeyed. 
She  wrote  back  a  loving  letter,  the  most  important 
feature  of  which  was  the  news  that  my  share  of 
my  father's  estate  (eight  hundred  a  year)  could  be 
drawn  on  at  Coutts'.  Already  a  handsome  sum 
was  to  my  credit,  for  I  had  not  required  any  money 
while  Lukos  and  I  were  together.  So  with  this  sum 
and  Lukos'  notes  at  my  disposal  I  was  in  no  need 
of  money.  But  I  soon  found  that  I  needed  a  hobby 
to  keep  me  from  thinking  too  much,  and  that  brings 
me  rapidly  to  the  stage. 

" '  A  hobby '  under  such  circumstances  must 
sound  curious:  really,  it  is  mere  common  sense. 
The  paths  of  diplomacy  I  discovered  were  very 
steep,  the  movement  of  the  wheels  was  very  slow. 
When  I  had  done  everything  possible  and  could 
think  of  nothing  else,  I  had  a  great  deal  of  time  on 
my  hands.  Painting  and  music  were  not  to  my  taste ; 
acting  was,  for  I  had  always  had,  like  most  young 
people,  a  liking  for  the  stage.  Also,  like  most 
young  people,  I  believed  I  had  the  dramatic  instinct. 
I  got  to  know  a  manager  —  with  money  things  are 
easy  —  and  he  gave  me  a  small  part,  a  few  lines,  in 
a  new  play.  There  was  nothing  in  that,  but  what 


CONFIDENCES  45 

followed  was  really  my  one  piece  of  luck.  In  re- 
turn for  a  consideration  he  allowed  me  to  under- 
study the  lead,  never  dreaming  my  capacity  would 
be  tested.  A  fortnight  later  my  principal  slipped 
on  a  fruit-skin  and  broke  her  leg.  (The  incident 
gave  rise  to  a  correspondence  on  the  Banana  Fall 
in  one  of  the  cheaper  papers.)  I  played  the  part 
that  night,  and,  unlike  most  young  people,  my  be- 
lief in  myself  was  justified.  I  was  a  success.  The 
manager,  rejoicing  that  he  need  not  look  for  a  new 
principal,  plumed  himself  on  his  discernment,  and 
*  boomed  '  me  for  all  he  was  worth. 

"  Well,  I  was  a  success ;  but  naturally  I  had  to 
pay  the  price.  In  this  case  the  price  was  my  sis- 
ter's affection.  From  the  first  she  had  objected  to 
my  going  on  the  stage:  it  was  a  case  of  consci- 
entious prejudice,  and  that  is  one  of  the  stubbornest 
things  on  earth.  She  had  written  daily  letters  of 
appeal,  and  all  my  arguments  were  useless.  I  do  not 
wish  to  dwell  on  this  .  .  .  enough  to  say  that  there 
grew  an  estrangement  .  .  .  now,  we  do  not  even 
write.  ..." 

"  Strange,"  said  Lionel  thoughtfully,  "  how  even 
the  best  can  be  obstinate.  I  hope  that  time 
may " 

"  That  reminds  me !  "  said  the  lady  briskly,  shak- 


46  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ing  off  her  sadness  and  glancing  at  the  clock,  "  I 
shall  be  on  again  shortly.  Will  you  do  something 
for  me  ?  Thank  you  —  I  was  sure  you  would.  At 
a  quarter  to  eleven  go  out  and  get  me  a  cab  or 
a  taxi.  Now,  it  is  important  that  we  should  not 
be  seen  leaving  the  theater  together  —  there  will 
probably  be  spies.  Oh,  yes!  I  know  it  sounds  ab- 
surd, but  in  this  you  must  be  guided  by  me.  Get 
the  cab  and  drive  back  by  devious  ways  to  the 
stage-door.  There  wait  for  me.  I  shall  be  ready 
by  eleven-fifteen  at  the  latest.  That  is  all.  .  .  . 
No !  I  forgot  the  reward !  " 

"  Reward !  "  he  echoed,  puzzled. 

"You  forget  you  saved  my  life,"  she  replied, 
smiling.  "  Close  your  eyes  —  promise  you  will  not 
open  them  till  I  give  you  leave.  You  promise  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  laughed,  still  not  understanding. 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  waited.  With  a  mis- 
chievous smile  she  bent  forward  and  kissed  him 
lightly  on  the  cheek.  Lionel  started.  In  a  mo- 
ment doubt  was  forgotten  —  forgotten  the  husband. 
All  he  knew  was  that  a  heavenly  creature  had 
deigned  to  kiss  him.  "  Your  promise !  "  she  cried 
warningly,  and  by  an  effort  of  pride  he  kept  his 
eyes  closed.  But  he  stood  up,  his  arms  held  out. 
There  was  dead  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  — 


CONFIDENCES  47 

"Am  I  still  bound?" 

"  You  are  free,"  she  said  merrily.  He  opened 
his  eyes,  to  find  the  reality  more  alluring  than 
the  dream.  He  seized  her  hands.  She  could  not 
help  shrinking  a  little,  though  her  eyes  shone  de- 
fiance. 

"  Why  did  you  do  that  ?  "  he  breathed,  aflame. 

She  smiled  mournfully. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  pleaded  in  tones  that  dis- 
armed him. 

Lionel  remembered  his  role  as  a  man  of  honor 
and  dropped  her  hand. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  but  a  little  bit- 
terly. She  lowered  her  eyes. 

"  It  is  I  who  should  beg  yours.  I  must  go  now. 
Eleven-fifteen! " 

Feeling  that  romance  was  somewhat  overworked, 
he  replied,  "Right  ho!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

BREAKERS  AHEAD! 

AT  eleven-thirty  Lionel  found  himself  enjoying 
a  tete-a-tete  supper  in  a  Bloomsbury  flat. 
He  had  obtained  a  cab,  as  commanded,  and  the  lady 
and  he  had  driven  home  together.  There  had  been 
no  adventures,  no  spies,  no  melodrama.  In  un- 
romantic  silence  had  they  gone,  for  after  the  thrills 
of  the  afternoon  and  evening  neither  had  been  in 
the  mood  to  talk.  On  reaching  her  flat,  which  was 
on  the  first  floor,  the  lady  had  let  herself  in  with 
a  latch-key,  and  they  had  gone  straight  into  the 
prettiest  little  sitting-room  imaginable.  Here  a 
cold  supper,  simple  but  excellent,  was  laid:  a  bottle 
of  hock  and  a  siphon  of  lemonade  were  the  only 
liquors  visible.  They  supped  together,  talking 
briskly  of  various  themes,  but  Lukos  and  the  treaty 
were  not  mentioned  till  they  had  finished.  When 
they  had  established  themselves  in  armchairs  and 
lighted  a  couple  of  cigarettes  the  lady  said :  "  And 
now  let  me  tell  you  what  I  want  you  to  do.  But 

first  of  all,  will  you  please  ring  for  coffee?  " 

48 


BREAKERS  AHEAD!  49 

Lionel  obeyed,  awaiting  with  some  curiosity  the 
expected  newcomer.  Would  it  be  a  smart  maid,  a 
mysterious  man  servant,  or  a  crone  with  a  history 
in  every  wrinkle?  His  doubts  were  speedily  re- 
solved. The  door  opened  without  noise,  and  there 
entered  the  most  charming  parlor  maid  the  heart 
of  man  could  wish.  She  was,  of  course,  in  a  maid's 
livery  —  the  black  and  white  that  is  so  simple, 
serviceable,  and  that  can  be  so  picturesque.  Her 
figure  was  the  trimmest  imaginable,  her  eyes  were  a 
dusky  brown,  her  hair  was  of  jet.  The  last  was  ar- 
ranged in  a  coiffure  that  a  thoughtless  man  would 
have  judged  unstudied,  but  a  schoolgirl  of  fifteen 
would  have  known  its  value  at  a  glance.  The  fea- 
tures of  this  disturbing  damsel  were  not  faultless 
—  the  nose,  for  example,  did  not  perfectly  succeed, 
but  her  eyebrows  looked  as  if  they  had  been  drawn 
by  a  painter,  the  mouth  promised  a  treasury  of 
kisses,  and  the  complexion  bespoke  an  air  less  rude 
than  London's,  for  it  shamed  the  most  delicate  of 
roses.  Lionel  was  obliged  to  remind  himself  that 
the  mistress  had  first  claim  on  his  affections. 

"  Clear  the  things,  please,  Mizzi,"  said  the  lady, 
not  marking  the  stupor  of  her  guest.  "  And  then 
bring  in  coffee." 

("Mizzi!"   thought   Lionel.     "Then   she  is  a 


50  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

German  or  Austrian.  And  I  called  myself  a  Teuto- 
phobe!") 

The  supper  was  speedily  cleared  and  the  coffee 
brought.  The  lady  sipped  reflectively  for  a  few 
moments,  and  then  plunged  into  the  business. 

"  What  I  want  you  to  do,"  she  said  abruptly,  "  is 
to  help  me  break  into  a  house." 

Lionel  was  almost  proof  against  surprises.  You 
must  remember  that  he  had  had  some  years  of  mo- 
notonous wear-and-tear  at  the  hands  of  the  world 
and  at  times  longed  for  an  adventure  as  some  men 
long  for  drink.  But  he  prided  himself  on  his  self- 
control,  and  had  felt  sure  that  he  would  meet  any  ad- 
venture with  an  assumption  of  ease,  however  joy- 
ful he  migfit  feel  within.  So  far  he  had  done  pretty 
well:  he  had  stopped  a  runaway  horse,  rescued  a 
charming  actress,  spent  a  few  thrilling  hours  in 
her  company,  and  on  the  whole  had  kept  himself 
in  hand.  But  to  be  asked  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone 
to  help  in  committing  a  felony  was  almost  too  much 
for  his  sang-froid.  However,  he  remembered  that 
good  fortune  has  its  price,  and  that  great  achieve- 
ments need  great  sacrifices.  Besides,  she  was  so 
adorable,  and  he  hated  to  back  out  of  any  enter- 
prise. 


BREAKERS  AHEAD!  51 

"  By  all  means,"  he  said  with  a  wan  cheerful- 
ness. "When  shall  I  start?" 

She  laughed. 

"  That  is  so  nice  of  you  —  not  to  ask  why.  I 
will  tell  you  a  little  more,  to  assure  you  that  our 
burglary  is  perfectly  honorable.  We  start  presently 
—  in  a  day,  two  days,  a  week  —  I  can  not  tell. 
The  fact  is  that  I  think  a  crisis  is  approaching. 
I  am  sure  that  very  soon  a  favorable  opportunity 
will  present  itself  to  make  use  of  the  treaty.  Some 
little  time  ago  I  determined  to  hide  this  document: 
it  was  no  longer  safe  to  keep  it  in  my  own  hands." 

"  Why  not  a  bank "  he  began. 

"  My  friend,  you  have  no  idea  of  the  importance 
of  the  affair.  Probably  the  bank  would  have  been 
safe,  but  governments  do  not  stick  at  trifles  when 
the  destinies  of  nations  are  at  stake.  Almost  cer- 
tainly a  colossal  bribe  would  have  been  offered, 
and  even  bank  officials  are  human.  So  I  resolved 
to  be  simple,  original  and  daring.  I  hid  the  treaty 
in  a  house  not  far  from  here.  How  it  was  done 
I  will  tell  you  another  time.  What  I  want  you  to 
do  is  to  help  me  regain  it.  I  would  go  alone,  but 
now  I  have  begun  to  think  it  better  to  have  an 
aide,  in  case  I  fail.  You  realize  what  it  may  mean 


52  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

if  we  are  caught?  A  prison  —  for  you  must  not 
explain.  Can  you  do  that?" 

"  I  am  ready,"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  When 
she  looked  at  him  like  that  he  felt  that  nothing 
mattered.  Besides,  it  would  be  a  thrill. 

"  Good,"  she  said  with  enormous  appreciation. 
"  And  now  I  am  going  to  bed.  I  am  very  sleepy." 

He  rose,  gloomily  wondering  when  he  should  see 
her  again.  "  Well,"  he  said,  with  an  attempt  at 
cheerfulness,  "  good  night." 

"  You  are  going?  "  she  asked  in  surprise.  "  But 
why?  I  want  you  to  stop  here." 

Lionel's  heart  bounded,  and  then  he  looked  at 
her.  He  was  tempted  to  stay,  for  she  was  unlike 
any  other  girl  he  had  ever  met.  But  that  very 
reason  made  him  pause.  He  knew  he  wanted  to 
kiss  her  and  that  he  must  not.  He  thought  he 
was  not  in  love  with  her,  because  he  ought  not 
to  be.  He  knew  that  he  would  be  in  love  with 
her  if  Lukos  were  dead.  And  because  he  felt  that 
she  mattered,  he  was  resolved  not  to  hurt  her. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  dropping  his  light  tone. 
"I  should  like  to,  but  — no!" 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  steadily  at  him. 
He  looked  as  steadily  at  her. 

"  Convention,"  he  said  frankly.     "  If  I  stop  here 


BREAKERS  AHEAD!  53 

and  people  get  to  know,  you  will  be  slandered. 
That  is  why." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  then  said  softly : 
"  You  are  better  than  I  thought.  .  .  .  You  must 
certainly  stop.  As  for  '  people  '  —  well,  I  know 
the  world  and  its  miry  ways.  I  know  and  I  do 
not  care." 

"Your  friends?"  he  suggested,  rejoicing  in  her. 

"  I  have  only  acquaintances,  and  they  do  not  mat- 
ter. Will  that  satisfy  you?" 

He  fought  against  the  temptation  with  a  jest, 
for  he  felt  that  the  pretty  creature  could  not  really 
know:  "You  forget  the  disappointment  of  Mrs. 
Barker." 

She  repeated  the  name  wonderingly  and  he  ex- 
plained. "  My  landlady.  If  I  do  not  return  she 
will  imagine  I  have  run  away  to  cheat  her." 

It  was  a  poor  jest,  but  only  a  jest,  and  he  was 
benumbed  at  its  effect.  The  lady  frowned  terribly 
upon  him.  Anger  swept  her  lovely  features  like  a 
thunder-cloud. 

"  How  could  you  ?  "  she  cried  in  heavenly  wrath. 
"  How  paltry !  How  pitiable !  I  knew  you  for  a 
cheerful  gentleman,  but  to  find  you  a  trivial  scof- 
fer  " 

"  Why,    what   have    I    done  ? "    he   stammered, 


54  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

amazed.  "  It  was  a  mere  joke  —  a  laughing  phrase 
• —  a  word " 

"Done!"  she  echoed.  "We  were  both  upon 
the  heights,  and  with  your  phrase  —  your  joke  — 
your  word,  you  drag  us  down  to  the  abyss  of 
banality  again.  I ' 

Her  petulance  annoyed  him. 

"  Really,  madam,"  he  said  bitingly,  "  I  am  sorry 
to  have  spoiled  it  —  to  have  *  let  down  the  scene/ 
as  they  say  on  the  stage.  But  as  I  seem  to  have 
offended  you  I  shall  take  my  leave." 

"  If  you  do,"  she  cried,  "  I  shall  never  speak  to 
you  again.  I  swear  it !  " 

He  stood  irresolute.  After  all,  she  looked  such 
a  darling  when  she  was  angry.  .  .  . 

"  Well,"  he  said,  temporizing,  "  if  I  stay  for  a 
while,  will  you  promise  to  be  sensible?" 

"  Never ! "  she  flashed,  stamping  her  foot,  and 
darted  from  the  room. 

Amusement  and  anger  struggled  for  the  victory 
in  Lionel's  heart.  "  Confound  her  for  her  folly !  " 
he  thought,  and  then,  "  Bless  her  for  her  incon- 
sequence !  "  He  sat  down  and  lighted  a  cigarette, 
expecting  her  return  at  any  minute,  determined  to 
stick  to  his  resolve  and  sleep  at  home. 

When  twenty  minutes  had  passed  he  reflected, 


BREAKERS  AHEAD!  55 

"  She  is  standing  on  her  dignity.  How  foolish ! " 
Ten  minutes  later  he  murmured,  with  a  pained 
accent,  "  She  is  human  after  all."  By  the  time 
his  fourth  cigarette  was  half-consumed  he  had  fairly 
lost  his  temper.  "  This  is  not  good  enough,"  he 
said ;  "  I  will  let  myself  out  and  call  to-morrow. 
If  she  refuses  to  see  me,  at  least  I  shall  have  kept 
my  self-respect.  No  woman  shall  treat  me  like  a 
dog." 

Grumbling,  he  opened  the  door  and  went  quietly 
out  into  the  hall.  He  listened  for  a  moment,  wait- 
ing to  give  her  the  chance  to  reappear  and  part 
as  friends.  There  was  no  sound:  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  light  still  burning  in  the  hall  he 
would  have  sworn  that  the  household  had  gone  to 
sleep. 

With  a  sigh  he  put  on  his  hat  and  opened  the 
inner  door.  He  anticipated  no  trouble  with  the 
outer  barrier,  but  in  this  he  was  wrong.  It  was 
padlocked,  and  flight  was  impossible.  His  sense 
of  humor  conquered  resentment,  and  he  smiled. 
"  I  give  in,"  he  thought :  "  well,  I  have  tried  to 
be  a  good  boy."  He  hung  up  his  hat  again  and 
returned  to  the  sitting-room.  Then  he  rang  the 
bell.  As  he  had  expected,  it  was  answered  by  the 
maid. 


£6  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"Monsieur  wishes  to  retire?"  she  asked,  with  a 
polite  sympathy  for  a  handsome  man. 

"  I  should  prefer  to  be  let  to  go  home,"  he  said 
pleasantly,  "  but  I  suppose  I'm  to  be  kept  a  prisoner." 

The  maid  looked  puzzled. 

"  Madame  has  locked  the  door  and  gone  to  sleep 
this  half-hour.  I  dare  not  wake  her  for  the  keys. 
Besides,  she  expects  you  to  remain." 

"  Then  will  you  show  me  my  room,  please  ?  " 
he  said,  accepting  defeat.  Whether  Mizzi  was  as 
innocent  as  she  seemed  he  could  not  decide,  but 
now  he  was  determined  to  let  things  take  their 
course.  She  held  the  door  open  for  him,  and  as 
he  passed  he  caught  an  amused  twinkle  in  her 
eyes.  He  yearned  to  give  her  a  good  shaking  and 
'say  "Explain!"  and  presently  kiss  her  heartily, 
for  she  was  exceedingly  attractive.  This  impulse 
he  controlled,  and  the  next  moment  found  himself 
in  his  bedroom. 

"  Breakfast  is  at  half  past  nine,"  said  Mizzi,  as 
she  drew  a  curtain.  "  At  what  time  does  monsieur 
wish  to  be  called?  " 

"  Oh  .  .  .  about  nine  o'clock  .  .  .  thank  you 
.  .  .  good  night." 

"  Good  night,  monsieur,"  said  the  maid  demurely 


BREAKERS  AHEAD!  57 

as  she  tripped  to  the  door,  and  then  a  lamentable 
accident  occurred.  It  was  due  to  the  eccentricities 
of  modern  fashion.  For  several  years  Lionel  had 
carried  his  handkerchief  secreted  in  his  cuff.  As 
Mizzi  stepped  daintily  past,  the  handkerchief,  which 
had  been  working  loose,  fell  to  the  ground.  He 
and  she  stooped  together  for  its  recovery,  and  their 
heads  approached  nearer  than  was  discreet.  Her 
fingers  reached  the  handkerchief  first,  and  she  re- 
stored it  as  they  were  rising.  This  was  pardonable, 
but  she  ought  not  to  have  looked  him  in  the  face. 
Her  eyes  telegraphed  "  I  like  you,"  and  his,  some- 
thing more.  Without  judicious  reflection  Lionel 
clasped  her.  "You  are  a  perfect  darling!"  he 
whispered,  "  and  I  simply  must  kiss  you  —  it  is 
what  you  were  made  for." 

"  Oh,  monsieur ! "  gasped  Mizzi,  "  it  is  a 
scandal! " 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Lionel,  "  I  suppose  it  is.  But 
it  would  be  a  graver  scandal  not  to  kiss  such  a 
bouquet  of  charms.  There,  my  attractive  morsel 
—  another  ...  a  butterfly  salutation  on  your 
charming  eyes,  and  .  .  .  good  night." 

Mizzi,  with  a  stifled  laugh,  kissed  him  lightly  in 
return,  freed  herself  and  escaped.  Lionel,  his 


58  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

sleepiness  a  thing  of  the  past,  sat  down  on  the 
bed. 

"  Dash  it ! "  he  thought,  wagging  his  head,  "  I 
oughtn't  to  have  done  that  .  .  .  but  it  was  ex- 
ceedingly pleasant  .  .  .  exceedingly  pleasant  .  .  . 
yet  I  ought  not  to  have  yielded  to  temptation,  for 
I  was  under  the  vague  impression  that  I  was  in 
love  with  the  maid's  mistress.  If  so,  I  was  dis- 
loyal, a  creature  of  no  account.  Let  us  see  whether 
there  is  not  something  to  be  said  for  the  de- 
fense  

"  Suppose  I  do  love  her  —  the  mistress,  I  mean 

—  I   must   not  kiss   her,   because   she   is   married. 
Doubtless  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  be  loyal  to 
the   husband,   the   lady   and   the   ideal  —  in    short, 
neither   kiss   her   nor   any   one   else.     In  a   word, 
become  a  sort  of  grass-bachelor.  ...     A  hard  mat- 
ter,  for  I  am   not  cast   in  the  ascetic  mold,  and 
Mizzi's  lips  are  devilish  tempting.  .  .  .     Suppose, 
now,  the  husband  died  (and  I  regret  that  I  can  not 
regard   this   contingency   with   disgust)    and   there 
were  at  least  a  sporting  chance  of  my  stepping  into 
his  shoes  —  oh!  of  course  not  at  once,  but  later 

—  later  —  why,  then  I  could  face  permanent  loyalty 
and  temporary  asceticism  with  a  light  heart.  .  .  . 
But  to  go  through  the  world  refusing  all  sweets 


BREAKERS  AHEAD!  59 

because  my  favorite  sweet  has  been  appropriated, 
surely  that  were  foolish. 

"  Again,  am  I  in  love  with  her  ?  Can  one  fall 
in  love  so  suddenly,  outside  the  realm  of  fiction? 
Is  there  not  a  great  truth  in  the  popular  ballad 
that  treats  of  '  a  tiny  seed  of  love '  ?  Surely  love 
is  a  seed,  planted  by  chance  or  design  —  for  example, 
by  a  match-making  mama?  The  seed  needs  op- 
portunity for  gradual  growth  —  the  sun  of  fre- 
quent intercourse  —  the  rain  of  timely  separation 

—  the  fertilizer  of  presents  of  flowers  and  bonbons 

—  before  it  can  grow  to  a  splendid  harvest.  .  .  . 
This  harvest  of  mine  can  not  be  love ;  it  must  be  pas- 
sion.    If  so,  it  must  be  crushed.  .  .  .     She  is  too 
perfect  to  sully  even  in  thought." 

His  brow  grew  gloomy,  and  he  paced  the  room 
with  feverish  steps. 

"No!"  he  said  presently,  "I  feel  pretty  sure 
it  is  not  passion  pure  and  simple  —  or  impure  and 
complex  if  you  like.  Critics  may  sneer,  but  I  can 
not  help  thinking  it  may  soon  be  love,  if  it  is  not 
that  already.  Wherefore,  I  had  better  fly  to  do 
her  errands  as  soon  as  possible.  .  .  .  But  I  can 
not  accept  the  ascetic  ideal  .  .  .  yet.  Hypotheti- 
cal Mizzis  may  cross  my  path,  and  if  they  do  I 
feel  sure  I  shall  kiss  them,  but  the  moment  I  see 


60  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

a  possible  chance  of  winning  her,  why,  then  I  shall 
be  very  good. 

".  .  .  'Myes  .  .  .  not  very  lofty  .  .  .  but  I  want 
to  be  honest,  and  feel  pretty  sure  that  is  what  I 
shall  do.  ...  No  doubt  I  shall  not  be  happy, 
but  ...  ?  " 

With  a  dissatisfied  growl  he  began  to  undress, 
and  soon  he  was  in  bed.  To  quiet  his  uneasy  con- 
science before  he  fell  asleep  he  muttered,  "  And  of 
course  I  shall  do  anything  she  tells  me." 

The  unheroic  but  truthful  pleasure-seeker  then 
gave  an  unromantic  snore. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   PLOT   THICKENS 

A  KNOCK  on  his  door  roused  Lionel  at  half 
past  eight,  and  he  sprang  up  clear-eyed  and 
joyous  to  meet  the  sun.  The  events  of  the  previ- 
ous day  sped  pleasantly  through  his  brain;  and 
now  that  the  morning  was  upon  him  and  the  Lon- 
don sparrows  twittering  optimism,  he  could  not 
dwell  seriously  on  the  indignation  of  his  hostess. 
"  Oh,  it  is  bound  to  be  all  right ! "  he  said  to  him- 
self, stropping  a  razor  that  he  found  on  the  dressing- 
table  and  whistling  a  merry  tune.  The  cold  tub 
strung  him  to  a  higher  mood,  and  as  he  plied  the 
towel  he  broke  into  song.  " Horchen  Sie  dock!" 
said  Mizzi  approvingly  to  the  cat,  as  she  prepared 
breakfast  and  heard  the  melodious  strain:  " Er  ist 
em  braver  Kerl,  der  sich  nicht  erzurnt.  Er  ist  ein 
lustiger  Geist,  wirklich.  Die  anderen  habe  ich  zum 
Besten"  No  doubt  she  was  right. 

Lionel   breakfasted  alone.     Mizzi  said  that  her 
mistress  begged  to  be  excused  for  an  hour;  after 

that  she   would  be   ready.     The   maid   lingered  a 

61 


62  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

moment  more  than  was  necessary  after  bringing 
in  the  coffee,  and  seemed  markedly  assiduous  for 
his  comfort.  But  Lionel  did  not  detain  her  in  con- 
versation; he  had  no  intention  of  elaborating  the 
affaire  of  the  previous  night.  What  amusement 
fell  to  his  share  he  was  ready  to  accept  with  a 
youthful  zest,  but  he  was  old  enough  not  to  pur- 
sue happiness  too  zealously  nor  to  magnify  trifles. 
A  kiss  was  well  enough,  provided  it  embarrassed 
neither  the  recipient  nor  himself.  He  was  never 
a  man  to  raise  false  hopes  or  win  success  by  lies 
or  a  pretended  love.  His  philosophy  embraced  the 
theory  that  girls,  or  some  of  them  at  least,  liked 
being  petted,  and  he  was  not  averse  from  the  kindly 
office.  Only,  there  must  be  a  clear,  if  unspoken, 
understanding  that  he  was  not  to  be  taken  au  seri- 
eux.  This  philosophy,  of  course,  did  not  apply  to 
Beatrice  Blair:  she  was  altogether  outside  routine. 
He  was  a  butterfly,  if  you  like,  but  at  any  rate 
honest. 

So  when  Mizzi  hoped  that  monsieur  had  slept 
well,  he  said  gravely,  "  Perfectly,  ma  p'tite,"  and 
asked  for  the  morning's  newspaper.  She  brought 
it,  with  a  pout  of  resentment,  and  as  she  handed 
it  to  him  discovered  a  fly  on  his  collar.  This  she 
was  allowed  to  remove  with  the  most  absolute 


THE  PLOT  THICKENS  63 

decorum;  but  when  the  operation  was  finished  and 
she  smiled  persuasively,  he  stroked  her  hair  pa- 
ternally and  said,  "  You  must  not  be  foolish,  my 
child."  Mizzi  retired  with  a  heightened  color,  and 
he  sat  down  with  satisfaction  to  the  cricket  reports 
and  deviled  kidneys.  To  tell  the  truth,  in  spite  of 
his  arguments  he  felt  slightly  ashamed  of  the  mo- 
mentary swerve  from  loyalty. 

His  hostess  appeared  in  due  course,  looking  ex- 
ceedingly pretty  and  self-possessed.  She  was 
dressed  smartly  in  blue,  a  color  that  contrasted 
favorably  with  her  hair  and  eyes.  Lionel  thrilled 
with  gladness  at  the  sight  of  her,  for  in  brief  mo- 
ments of  doubt  he  had  thought  that  perhaps  his 
imagination  had  played  tricks:  the  night  and  arti- 
ficial lights  might  possibly  have  lent  her  a  fascina- 
tion that  would  pass  with  the  dawn.  Could  there 
indeed  be  so  delightful  a  creature  in  London?  These 
doubts,  it  must  be  insisted,  had  been  exceedingly 
brief;  still,  they  had  had  existence,  and  the  joy 
of  seeing  them  dissolve  like  frost  in  sunlight  made 
life  more  desirable  than  ever. 

There  was  no  embarrassment  at  the  meeting. 
Both  were  highly  civilized,  educated,  up-to-date; 
with  a  kindred  instinct  of  what  to  admit  or  ignore, 
a  knowledge  of  the  times  when  silence  or  speech 


64  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

was  best.  The  lady  made  no  reference  to  the  im- 
passe of  the  night  before,  and  Lionel  was  too  full 
of  the  present  to  dwell  churlishly  on  the  past.  In- 
stead, they  talked  cheerfully  of  trivialities  for  a 
time,  and  then  Miss  Blair  announced  her  intention 
of  going  out  to  do  some  shopping.  "  I  will  not  ask 
you  to  come  with  me,"  she  observed  smiling,  "  for 
I  can  guess  how  bored  you  would  be.  But  I  shall 
be  with  you  again  for  lunch.  For  the  present,  au 
revoir." 

Lionel,  who  would  cheerfully  have  carried  a  score 
of  parcels  or  hat-boxes  for  the  pleasure  of  her  com- 
pany, had  no  choice  but  to  acquiesce.  There  was 
no  pressing  reason  for  returning  to  his  lodgings  — 
indeed,  there  was  every  reason  for  staying  away 
until  he  could  earn  some  money.  True,  there  was 
no  immediate  prospect  of  acquiring  any;  but  at  least 
he  was  in  the  middle  of  an  interesting  experience, 
and  he  had  promised  to  help  in  a  burglary.  So  with 
a  fine  disregard  of  circumstances  he  chose  the  most 
comfortable  armchair  and  the  lightest  novel  he 
could  find,  and  put  the  cigarette-box  within  easy 
reach.  Thus  he  passed  an  unprofitable  but  pleasant 
morning. 

Miss  Blair  returned  soon  after  one  o'clock,  and 
they  had  lunch  together.  In  the  afternoon  they 


THE  PLOT  THICKENS  65 

went  for  a  drive  in  a  hired  motor  to  Thames  Dit- 
ton.  They  stopped  there  for  tea  and  got  back  to 
Bloomsbury  about  seven.  Lionel  was  put  down 
at  the  flat  and  Miss  Blair  went  on  to  the  theater, 
from  which  she  returned  late  at  night.  Supper  fol- 
lowed, and  then  they  smoked  and  chatted  for  half 
an  hour  before  going  to  bed.  Lionel  had  expected 
to  hear  more  of  the  conspiracy  and  projected 
felony,  but  nothing  was  said.  Wherefore  he  kept 
silence,  awaited  events,  and  went  to  sleep,  won- 
dering whether  a  farce  or  tragedy  was  being 
played. 

This  uneventful  life  went  on  for  several  days, 
during  which  he  had  plenty  of  time  to  study  his 
hostess.  He  learned  nothing  more  than  he  knew 
already.  A  brilliant  and  charming  personality, 
grave  or  humorous  as  occasion  demanded,  appar- 
ently sincere  in  her  conviction  of  a  great  con- 
spiracy, devoted  to  her  absent  husband,  resolute 
to  strike  when  opportunity  offered  —  such  was  Be- 
atrice Blair.  When  he  was  in  her  company  he 
could  not  doubt  her;  alone,  he  could  not  help  won- 
dering what  this  Arabian  Night  might  mean.  The 
utter  fantasy  of  it  all  bewildered  him,  but  even  if 
false  he  could  not  conceive  her  motive.  In 
the  end  he  usually  came  back  to  the  conclusion  that 


66  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

the  apparently  absurd  was  true,  and  always  that  at 
all  costs  he  would  see  it  through  to  the  end. 

Her  attitude  to  him  was  that  of  a  gay  comrade. 
There  were  no  more  "  gratitude  "  kisses  —  no  hint 
of  danger.  She  had  referred  only  once  again  to 
his  act  of  stopping  the  runaway  horse  and  her  wish 
to  do  something  to  show  her  thankfulness.  This 
he  had  laughed  at;  now  that  the  opportunity  had 
come  he  was  loath  to  use  it ;  but  in  a  subsequent  con- 
versation she  had  learned  that  he  had  written  several 
plays,  all  unacted,  perhaps  even  unread.  One  lay 
at  that  moment  in  the  office  of  Ashford  Billing, 
a  prominent  manager;  she  knew  him,  and  promised 
to  spur  him  to  read  Lionel's  play  himself.  Lionel 
thanked  her,  but  did  not  build  any  castles  on  so 
flimsy  a  foundation.  He  had  been  knocking  at 
managers'  doors  too  many  years  to  have  any  il- 
lusions. 

So  day  followed  day  without  anything  to  break 
the  pleasant  monotony.  Lionel  and  Beatrice  were 
rapidly  cementing  a  friendship  that  was  more  than 
a  friendship  to  him.  Only  the  remembrance  of 
Lukos  kept  him  from  showing  something  more  of 
his  real  feelings  —  the  remembrance  of  Lukos  and 
the  aloof  friendliness  of  Beatrice  herself.  There 


THE  PLOT  THICKENS  67 

was  but  one  fly  in  the  amber  of  that  perfect  week, 
and  that  was  the  attitude  of  Mizzi. 

Since  the  morning  after  his  arrival  Mizzi  had 
waited  on  him  with  an  air  of  courteous  disap- 
proval. She  had  been  as  polite  as  ever,  as  demure 
and  piquant  as  could  be  wished,  but  she  had  been 
less  communicative,  less  sympathique  with  the 
stranger.  Even  in  the  presence  of  her  mistress  there 
was  a  suggestion  of  frigidity  that  was  galling  to 
a  sensitive  man.  Lionel  grudgingly  admitted  that 
perhaps  he  had  been  a  little  to  blame,  but,  illogically 
enough,  he  resented  the  atmosphere  of  respectful 
condemnation.  More  than  once  he  had  tried  to  dis- 
sipate the  unhappy  misunderstanding,  to  restore 
things  to  a  more  friendly  —  but  not  too  friendly 
—  footing.  In  this  he  had  not  been  successful.  To 
his  cheerful  and  carefully  composed  commonplaces 
Mizzi  made  the  briefest  of  answers,  and  on  one 
occasion  there  had  been  a  distinct  toss  of  the  head 
and  an  unmistakable  sniff.  "  Women  are  so  un- 
reasonable," he  said  to  himself  complainingly,  after 
a  sustained  effort  that  fell  flat ;  then  with  a  pang  of 
compunction,  "  Some  women,  I  mean.  I  do  wish 
Mizzi  would  be  sensible.  ...  It  is  very  trying." 

Matters  came  to  a  head  after  he  had  been  Miss 


68  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Blair's  guest  for  nearly  a  week.  It  was  a  Satur- 
day, and  his  hostess  went  to  the  theater  directly 
after  lunch  to  get  ready  for  the  matinee.  Lionel, 
provided  with  one  of  her  cards,  was  to  follow  her 
and  see  the  play,  for  as  yet  he  had  not  watched 
her  on  the  stage.  The  experience  proved  delight- 
ful, for  the  play  was  good  and  her  acting  excellent. 
After  it  was  over  he  went  back  to  the  flat  alone, 
for  she  meant  to  rest  in  her  dressing-room  until 
the  evening  performance. 

Mizzi  opened  the  door  to  Lionel,  and  when  he 
asked  her  to  bring  tea  she  said,  "  Immediately, 
m'sieur,"  in  the  most  correct  of  tones.  Disap- 
proval still  hung  heavily  about  her,  mixed,  as  it 
seemed,  with  something  of  compassion.  Her  at- 
titude was  almost  that  of  a  perfect  mother  to  a 
well-meaning  but  erring  child.  "  Hang  it ! " 
thought  Lionel,  as  he  waited  in  the  sitting-room, 
"  she  has  no  business  to  behave  like  this.  I  have 
a  good  mind  ...  a  jolly  good  mind  to  .  .  ."  He 
fell  into  a  reverie  and  gloomily  whistled  the  open- 
ing bars  of  Chopin's  Marche  Funebre. 

Presently  the  maid  brought  in  tea.  She  set  the 
tray  on  a  little  table,  placed  a  cake-stand  within 
easy  reach,  paused  to  make  sure  she  had  forgotten 


THE  PLOT  THICKENS  69 

nothing,  and  then  asked,  "  Is  there  anything  more, 
m'sieur?  " 

Lionel,  who  had  come  to  a  resolution  while  wait- 
ing, roused  himself. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  decisively,  "  there  is.  Will  you 
be  kind  enough  Mizzi,  to  tell  me  why  you  sur- 
round me  with  the  wet-blanket  of  your  wrath? 
It  is  very  depressing  to  a  sunny  nature." 

Mizzi  looked  at  him  with  a  frank  pity  in  her 
eyes.  "  It  is  because  I  am  sorry,"  she  replied. 

"  That  is  no  explanation,"  said  Lionel  briskly, 
glad  to  perceive  a  thaw,  however  slight.  "  Why  are 
you  sorry?  " 

"  Because  you  are  a  fool,"  observed  Mizzi  with 
a  gentle  pensiveness. 

Lionel  started;  he  had  not  expected  this.  To  be 
called  a  fool  by  a  friend  of  one's  own  age  and  sex 
is  an  every-day  matter  that  causes  no  uneasiness. 
To  be  called  a  fool  by  a  withered  graybeard  need 
not  leave  a  sting,  for  there  is  the  comfortable  re- 
flection that  the  graybeard  may  be  repeating  a  mere 
formula,  and  that  he,  too,  enjoyed  being  a  fool 
in  his  day.  To  be  called  a  fool  by  a  youthful 
enemy  is  only  to  be  expected,  and  the  epithet  betrays 
a  palpable  lack  of  judgment  in  the  user,  an  epithet 


70  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

that  returns  like  a  boomerang  upon  himself.  But 
to  be  called  a  fool  by  a  pretty  woman  is  a  distinct 
ordeal.  Lionel  was  shaken. 

He  contrived  to  compass  a  laugh.  It  was  not 
an  infectious  cachinnation,  but  still  it  was  a  laugh. 
"Will  you  tell  me  why  I  am  a  fool?  "  he  asked  in 
a  moment. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mizzi,  still  in  the  same  gentle 
tone.  "  It  is  because  you  are  the  slave  of  my  mis- 
tress." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Lionel  politely,  "  but  I  have 
no  wish  to  discuss  her.  You  may  go." 

At  this  the  maid  lost  some  of  her  admirable  self- 
control.  "  Bah ! "  she  cried,  "  you  are  the  same 
as  the  rest !  Show  a  man  a  pretty  face  and  a  pair 
of  dazzling  eyes,  and  he  is  blinded !  You  think  her 
perfect " 

"  I  know  she  is,"  he  interrupted,  "  though  why 
I  should  trouble  to  say  so  to  a  servant ' 

The  thrust  was  cruel,  but  he  felt  she  had  de- 
served it. 

"  A  servant !  "  she  repeated,  sparkling  with  anger. 
"  A  servant !  Yes,  it  is  true  —  but  an  honest  true 
woman  that  knows  not  how  to  tell  lies  like  her 
mistress  — 

"  That  is  enough,"  said  Lionel,  taking  her  with 


THE  PLOT  THICKENS  71 

a  gentle  firmness  by  the  arm.  "  My  tea,  I  fear, 
must  be  getting  cold." 

As  soon  as  he  touched  her  the  virago  subsided. 
She  made  not  the  least  resistance  as  he  led  her  to 
the  door.  But  as  he  was  opening  it  she  looked 
up  with  appealing  eyes.  "  Ah,  monsieur ! "  she 
whispered  piteously;  but  he  was  in  no  mood  to 
be  melted.  He  shut  the  door  upon  her,  and  did 
not  see  the  rainbow  of  smiles  that  played  over  her 
face  the  moment  she  was  in  safety. 

"  She  is  jealous,"  mused  Lionel,  pouring  out  a 
cup  of  tea;  "  I  did  not  think  she  would  have  been 
so  silly." 

He  wagged  his  head  sadly  over  the  frailty  of 
human  nature,  and  then  an  unpleasant  thought 
struck  him  —  the  accusation  of  her  mistress. 
"  Lies  "  had  been  the  charge  —  an  ugly  word  —  and 
on  the  face  of  things  somewhat  plausible.  Again 
he  reviewed  the  arguments  for  the  defense  —  the 
lack  of  all  apparent  motive  for  deceit,  his  useless- 
ness  from  a  blackmailer's  standpoint,  and  the  rest, 
—  and  the  strength  of  them  gave  him  fresh  courage. 
The  strongest  argument  of  all,  the  remembrance 
of  Beatrice  herself,  almost  clenched  the  matter. 
'Almost,  for  he  was  cautious,  and  had  some  knowl- 
edge of  the  world.  Still,  he  was  young  and  hope- 


72  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ful,  and  the  obvious  jealousy  of  Mizzi  was  an 
additional  reason  for  discounting  her  assertions. 
"  Lies  or  not,"  he  concluded,  "  it  is  too  amusing  to 
let  slip.  Besides,  she  is  such  a  dear  .  .  .  ." 

The  object  of  his  devoted  suspicion  returned  soon 
after  eleven  that  night,  a  little  tired,  but  full  of 
kindliness  and  mirth.  "  Oh ! "  she  cried,  as  she 
entered  the  room,  "  I  hope  you  haven't  waited  sup- 
per for  me.  If  so,  you  must  be  ravenous  — 

"Of  course  I  waited,"  said  Lionel.  "  Shall  I 
ring?" 

"But  why  hasn't  Mizzi  set  supper?"  asked  Be- 
atrice, pausing  in  the  act  of  taking  off  her  hat. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Lionel  carelessly.  "  It  is 
true  we  had  a  slight  difference,  but  surely  - 

She  caught  up  his  words.  "  A  difference !  with 
my  maid ! " 

Lionel  cursed  his  stupidity  in  silence.  The  un- 
lucky words  had  slipped  from  his  mouth  unheeding. 
He  stood  dumb. 

"  What  was  the  different  about?  "  asked  Beatrice 
frigidly.  "Did  you  try  to  kiss  her?" 

At  this  stroke  of  feminine  intuition  Lionel  felt 
himself  to  be  in  deep  waters.  He  was  no  lover 
of  lies,  and  to  this  peerless  creature  a  lie  would  be 
doubly  treacherous.  On  the  other  hand,  something 


THE  PLOT  THICKENS  73 

was  due  to  Mizzi :  not  only  had  he  tried  to  kiss  her 
—  the  feat  had  been  successfully  accomplished. 

"  Do  you  think,"  he  asked  reproachfully,  "  that 
the  moment  your  back  was  turned  I  could  transfer 
my  worship  to  another?" 

"  I  think  it  quite  possible,"  said  the  lady  with  a 
twinkle  he  did  not  see. 

"  Then,  madam,"  returned  Lionel  in  his  best 
wounded  manner,  "  let  me  tell  you  what  happened. 
I  rang  for  tea.  Your  maid  served  it  with  a  certain 
coldness  of  manner.  I  asked  the  reason,  and  she 
accused  me  of  folly  in  being  devoted  to  you.  She 
even  hinted  that  your  words  were  not  wholly  to  be 
relied  on.  I  at  once  led  her  from  the  room." 

"Without  a  kiss?" 

"  I  held  her  at  arm's  length,"  said  Lionel 
proudly. 

Beatrice  said  "  H'm  "  in  a  meditative  manner,  and 
then,  more  briskly,  "  Please  ring  the  bell." 

Lionel  obeyed,  and  waited  in  some  distress. 
Suppose  Mizzi  were  to  excuse  herself  by  relating 
the  incident  in  which  he  had  been  a  partner! 
Would  he  be  cast  into  darkness  on  the  instant? 
What  a  Nemesis  for  how  trivial  a  misdemeanor! 
He  heard  the  bell  ring  again,  as  the  impatient  Be- 
atrice pressed  the  electric  button,  and  sweat  broke 


74  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

out  upon  his  forehead.  A  crisis  was  imminent. 
Still  a  third  time  the  relentless  tinkle  sounded,  and 
he  was  without  plan,  excuse,  or  counterplot.  He 
woke  from  his  anguish  to  hear  the  lady  speak. 

"  She  must  have  gone  out,  I  suppose  .  .  .  but 
we  must  make  sure  .  .  .  perhaps  .  .  .  will  you 
come?  " 

He  followed  her,  grateful  for  the  respite,  and  at 
a  loss  for  the  meaning.  They  went  into  the  hall, 
and  thence  to  the  kitchen.  No  one  was  there.  In 
silence  they  knocked  on  the  bedroom  door,  but 
received  no  answer.  Beatrice  opened  the  door  and 
peered  within.  She  switched  on  the  electric  light 
and  they  advancd.  In  the  center  of  the  floor  stood 
a  portmanteau,  strapped  and  labeled.  Lionel  lifted 
the  label  and  read  the  inscription  aloud.  It  was  to 
a  warehouse  in  Camden  Town. 

"  She  has  gone!  "  said  the  lady  in  a  whisper  of 
tragedy.  "  She  has  gone! " 

"And  a  good  riddance,  too!"  returned  Lionel 
with  a  vast  cheerfulness.  "  But  she  might  at  least 
have  laid  supper  first." 

'  You  do  not  understand,"  said  Beatrice  tensely. 
"  This  is  no  ordinary  desertion.  It  means,  I  fear, 
that  she  has  joined  my  enemies." 

Lionel's  good  breeding  was  not  proof  against  the 


THE  PLOT  THICKENS  75 

suddenness  of  this.  He  sat  down  abruptly  on  a 
convenient  chair  and  laughed. 

"  No,  no !  "  he  cried.  "  That  will  not  do,  madam. 
That  is  —  forgive  me  —  too  crude,  unworthy  of 
your  talents.  Reflect!  Your  servant  runs  off  in 
a  petulant  fit,  and  lo !  you  exclaim  that  she  has  been 
suborned  by  the  Ottoman  Empire!  That  is  sheer 
melodrama." 

Beatrice  gave  a  smile  that  was  grave  and  re- 
proachful. 

"  You  forget,"  she  said  gently,  "  that  I  am  an 
actress." 

The  sweetness  of  the  reproof,  the  ironical  self- 
criticism,  convinced  him  of  her  sincerity  more  than 
any  rhetoric  could  have  done.  "  I  beg  your  pardon," 
he  said  humbly,  taking  her  hand ;  "  tell  me  more." 

"  She  has  deserted  me,"  said  Beatrice  quietly. 
"  With  her  I  made  my  one  great  mistake  —  natural, 
but  irreparable.  I  thought  her  true,  and  one  day, 
when  I  was  in  need  of  a  woman's  sympathy  and 
help,  I  told  her  all  ...  all,  even  to  the  hiding-place 
of  the  treaty.  It  is  too  late  for  regrets  or  fears. 
Now  we  must  act." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   HISTORY   OF   HENRY   BROWN 

MR.  HENRY  BROWN  was  a  man  of  forty, 
an  age  that  is  supposed  to  be  the  prime 
of  life,  though  most  of  us  would  prefer  to  be  ten 
years  younger.  At  forty  one  has  shed  most  illu- 
sions, but  at  least  there  is  the  consolation  of  having 
arrived  at  a  workable  philosophy.  For  some  of  us 
this  philosophy  may  mean  simple  acquiescence;  for 
others  an  attitude  of  pleased  contemplation,  like  a 
yokel  smoking  his  pipe,  leaning  on  the  gate  of  a 
summer  evening.  Those  of  us  who  are  married  and 
without  the  philosophy  of  our  own  are  fortunate 
in  having  one  —  if  not  several  —  provided  by  a 
wife.  And  her  philosophy,  grounded  on  practical 
common  sense  rather  than  a  study  of  the  metaphy- 
sicians, is  of  much  more  value  to  the  world  than 
abstract  thought.  She  is,  in  short,  better  adapted 
for  keeping  us  up  to  the  mark. 

Henry  Brown  was  unlucky  enough  to  be  a  bache- 
lor.    This  was  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  for 

as  a  young  man  he  had  dreamed  his  dreams  of  a 

76 


THE  HISTORY  OF  HENRY  BROWN        77 

snug  little  home,  a  cheerful  wife,  and  chubby 
children,  who  were  always  to  remain  at  an  age  not 
exceeding  nine.  His  dreams,  with  their  usual  per- 
versity, had  not  been  realized,  though  on  more  than 
one  occasion  he  had  made  efforts  to  find  his  ideal. 
There  had  been,  for  instance,  the  daughter  of  a 
chimney-sweep,  a  virtuous  and  charming  creature. 
There  had  been  a  policeman's  niece,  whose  boast  it 
was  that  she  could  "  slip  the  bracelets  "  —  her  own 
expression  —  on  a  refractory  subject  as  quickly  as 
a  professional  thief -taker.  There  had  been  the  rel- 
ict of  a  fish-and-chips  salesman,  and  quite  a  number 
of  others,  equally  alluring  and  disappointing.  In 
his  early  youth  he  had  dallied  with  them  all,  but 
he  had  never  got  beyond  the  dallying  stage. 

The  reason  had  been  always  the  same.  It  was 
not  that  he  had  failed  to  find  the  ideal:  not  at  all! 
The  quarry  of  the  moment  had  always  seemed  the 
most  peerless  of  her  sex  —  with  a  mental  reserva- 
tion giving  the  policeman's  niece  the  pride  of  place. 
It  was  simply  because  he  could  not  afford  to  marry. 
Girls  would  "  walk  out "  with  him  with  pleasure. 
They  would  give  him  every  encouragement  until 
.  .  .  until  the  fatal  truth  became  known.  It  was 
not  that  his  immediate  supply  of  cash  was  pitiable: 
it  was  because  he  had  no  "  prospects."  He  had  no 


78  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

trade,  being  merely  the  driver  of  a  cab.  Now  it 
is  possible  for  a  cab-driver  to  marry  and  bring  up 
a  family,  but  it  was  a  perverse  fate  that  all  the 
girls  to  whom  he  paid  attention  looked  somewhat 
higher  in  life.  And  Henry  Brown  was  unable  to 
satisfy  their  aspirations.  He  was  deep  in  the  groove 
of  cab-driving  by  the  time  he  was  twenty-three,  and 
could  conceive  no  other  calling  at  which  he  might 
succeed. 

Of  course  he  might  have  tried  to  win  a  wife  with 
less  social  ambition,  but  he  made  only  one  effort 
in  this  direction.  At  twenty-five  he  fluttered  after 
a  lady  who  seemed  a  promising  helpmeet.  She 
was  a  milliner's  assistant,  and  swore  to  wait  till 
Henry  Brown  had  saved  enough  to  start  a  home. 
She  waited  six  weeks,  and  then,  in  a  fit  of  romance 
or  madness,  married  a  scavenger. 

This,  in  a  commercial  sense,  had  been  the  making 
of  Henry  Brown.  Soured  by  his  experiences,  he 
had  resolved  to  hold  aloof  from  Woman  and  devote 
himself  to  Thrift.  Some  men  might  have  taken 
to  drink;  but  a  strain  of  Scottish  or  Jewish  blood, 
coupled  with  a  human  desire  to  show  the  world  he 
could  do  something,  compelled  Mr.  Brown  to  save. 
For  something  like  thirteen  years  he  lived  care- 
fully and  put  money  by.  Then  came  a  chance  legacy 


THE  HISTORY  OF  HENRY  BROWN        79 

of  five  hundred  pounds.  With  this  and  his  savings 
he  determined  to  hazard  all,  cease  to  be  a  wage-slave, 
and  start  in  business  as  a  cab-proprietor  on  his  own 
account. 

He  had  the  luck  to  start  just  as  taxicabs  came 
in,  so  he  had  no  old  stock  left  on  his  hands.  He 
bought  two  taxis  at  first  and  learned  the  business 
thoroughly,  driving  one  himself  for  three  months 
to  save  money  and  get  experience.  Gradually  he 
extended  his  operations,  and  by  the  end  of  four  years 
he  had  twenty  taxicabs  under  his  command.  He 
still  lived  carefully,  though  in  comfort,  and  when 
he  arrived  at  his  fortieth  year  he  rubbed  his  hands. 
"  Well,"  he  said  to  himself  one  day,  "  I've  done  it. 
I  might  begin  to  think  about  choosing  a  wife  now." 
It  was  significant  that  he  said  "  choose  " :  in  his 
youth  he  would  have  said  "  seek  "  or  possibly  "  sue 
for." 

Mr.  Brown  went  about  the  business  with  a 
methodical  earnestness,  buying  in  the  first  instance 
a  new  lounge  suit  and  an  appropriate  tie.  He  also 
discarded  pipes  as  being  vulgar,  and  took  to  three- 
penny cigars  instead.  Thus  habited,  if  the  expres- 
sion may  be  allowed,  he  would  take  his  walks  abroad 
after  office  hours  or  on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  wonder- 
ing where  and  how  he  should  meet  his  future  wife. 


8o  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Business,  which  naturally  had  tended  to  harden 
him,  had  left,  nevertheless,  a  good  deal  of  shyness 
untouched.  His  uneventful  bachelor  life,  too,  had 
done  nothing  to  eradicate  this;  and  it  is  a  painful 
fact  that  he  had  spoken  almost  to  no  woman,  save 
his  housekeeper  or  customers,  for  a  dozen  years. 
This  may  read  oddly,  but  it  is  not  so  odd  as  it 
looks.  A  man  with  little  money,  his  way  to  make, 
and  a  sense  of  disappointment,  is  not  anxious  at 
first  to  extend  his  circle  of  friends.  When  he  has 
made  some  progress,  then  it  will  be  time  enough, 
or  so  he  thinks.  But  it  is  not  always  time  enough, 
as  Henry  Brown  found  to  his  cost.  His  few 
friends  were  bachelors  like  himself,  and  when  he 
began  seriously  to  think  of  marrying  he  was  puzzled 
how  to  set  about  it.  He  despised  the  idea  of  using 
a  matrimonial  agency,  and  he  felt  himself  too  old 
and  respectable  to  pick  up  chance  acquaintances  in 
the  street.  But  Cupid,  who  disdains  no  servitor, 
however  aged,  gave  him  his  chance  at  last,  and  a 
better  chance  than  he  had  any  right  to  expect. 

An  attractive  young  woman,  apparently  foreign 
but  speaking  good  English,  called  one  day  to  order 
a  taxi.  Mr.  Brown,  who  booked  the  order  himself, 
was  distinctly  struck  by  her  appearance.  He  was 
not  so  absurd  as  to  fall  in  love  at  first  sight  —  an 


THE  HISTORY  OF  HENRY  BROWN        81 

unusual  proceeding,  pace  the  penny-a-liners, —  for 
the  cautious  routine  of  years  is  a  fetter  not  lightly 
to  be  broken.  But  being,  so  to  speak,  on  the  alert 
for  a  possible  mate,  he  now  took  more  than  a  busi- 
ness interest  in  his  customers.  He  noticed,  there- 
fore, that  this  young  woman  was  certainly  pretty, 
neat  and  decided,  and  he  put  her  down  as  a  lady's 
maid  in  a  "  superior  "  house.  He  made  no  advances 
on  this,  their  first  meeting,  but  he  could  not  help 
wishing  that  she  would  come  again  soon.  "  She  has 
a  Way  with  her,"  mused  the  cab-proprietor  after 
she  had  gone,  "  and  I  must  say  I  like  her;  and  her 
dress  was  nice,  though  plain.  Well,  a  plain  dress 
doesn't  run  a  husband  into  debt."  He  was  pain- 
fully ignorant. 

She  came  again  a  fortnight  later  on  a  similar 
errand,  and  this  time  Mr.  Brown  dared  to  unbend 
from  his  official  attitude  and  remark  that  it  was 
fine  weather.  The  young  woman  agreed  with  a 
charming  smile,  and  Mr.  Brown  caught  himself 
thinking  quite  seriously  about  her  more  than  once 
during  the  day.  He  wondered  if  he  might  ask  her 
the  next  time  she  came  to  go  for  a  walk  one  day. 
Would  it  be  proper  —  the  Thing?  Would  she  be 
pleased  to  look  on  him  as  a  mature  Don  Juan, 
laying  snares  for  her  pretty  feet?  Would  it  be 


82  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  rushing  it "  too  much,  and  would  she  build  ex- 
travagant hopes  thereon?  For  Henry  Brown  was 
careful  and,  remembering  his  early  love,  did  not 
intend  to  commit  himself  until  he  knew  a  little  more 
about  her.  He  was  most  certainly  not  in  love,  but 
he  was  thinking  about  it.  And  when  a  man  of  his 
age  and  in  his  position  thinks  about  it,  any  nice 
presentable  girl  who  comes  his  way  may  safely  specu- 
late on  a  formal  proposal,  provided  sufficient  op- 
portunities offer  themselves  or  ...  are  offered. 
This  may  not  be  romance  according  to  the  rules  of 
fiction,  but  it  is  life. 

However,  for  three  weeks  there  were  no  oppor- 
tunities, and  the  pretty  damsel  did  not  bring  her 
sunshine  into  the  cab-office.  This  did  not  plunge 
Mr.  Brown  into  the  depths  of  despair  or  anything 
so  foolish.  Pie  went  about  his  business  as  usual, 
a  little  distrait  it  may  be,  hoping  occasionally  that 
he  would  meet  her  again,  and  in  idle  moments  re- 
volving schemes  to  achieve  this  end.  The  difficulty 
was  that  he  did  not  know  where  she  lived,  for  on 

both   occasions   the  taxi  had  been   ordered   to   be 

/ 

at  a  hotel,  and  had  driven  once  to  another  hotel 
and  once  to  a  theater.  (He  had  casually  questioned 
his  drivers  on  the  subject.)  Hence  he  had  nothing 


THE  HISTORY  OF  HENRY  BROWN        83 

to  go  on,  and  had  to  wait  on  the  chances  of  fortune. 

But  a  third  meeting  came  at  last,  for  he  had  the 
luck  to  meet  her  in  a  tea-shop.  She  happened  to 
sit  down  at  the  same  table,  and  with  a  desperate 
diffidence  Mr.  Brown  recalled  himself  to  her.  The 
young  -woman  was  very  obliging  and  perfectly  at 
her  ease.  Oh,  but  yes !  She  remembered  him  per- 
fectly—  his  cabs  were  so  much  nicer  than  other 
people's  —  and  after  a  becoming  hesitation  she  al- 
lowed him  to  pay  for  an  ice. 

From  that  time  he  was  in  the  toils.  In  the  course 
of  their  conversation  he  ventured  to  ask  where  she 
lived.  She  did  not  take  any  notice  of  the  question, 
and  he  was  too  shy  to  press  her.  But  on  parting, 
a  casual  whisper  thrilled  his  receptive  ear :  "  I  al- 
ways promenade  on  a  Sunday.  If  you  really  wish, 
I  shall  meet  you  at  the  steps  of  the  National  Gallery 
at  half  past  two.  You  are  discreet,  nicht  wahrf" 
Mr.  Brown,  who  translated  the  concluding  phrase 
as  a  term  of  endearment  or  at  least  friendliness, 
began  to  feel  that  life  was  well  worth  living.  He 
met  her  on  Sunday,  and  they  had  a  decorous  but 
wholly  satisfying  promenade  in  the  park.  Tea  fol- 
lowed, and  he  escorted  her  part  of  the  way  home. 
From  that  date  the  Sunday  walk  became  an  insti- 


84  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

tution,  and  even  an  occasional  visit  to  the  theater 
of  an  evening  was  allowed. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  follow  the  affair  in  detail. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  at  the  end  of  three  months 
Henry  Brown  found  himself  sincerely  in  love.  He 
had  not  made  a  formal  offer  as  yet,  fearing  that  the 
lady's  heart  was  not  sufficiently  intrigue.  He  was 
immensely  satisfied  with  the  change  in  his  life  and 
new  comradeship,  which  he  hoped  would  develop 
into  something  warmer.  But,  afraid  of  being  too 
precipitate,  he  contented  himself  with  making  her 
presents  of  flowers,  chocolates,  or  an  occasional 
piece  of  jewelry  of  the  Mizpah  type.  He  trusted 
that  his  personality,  generous  handling  of  the  case, 
and  time  ("  Giving  her  rope  enough  to  hang  her- 
self "  was  his  well-meant  but  unfortunate  metaphor) 
would  dispose  her  to  favor  his  suit.  The  lady  ap- 
peared perfectly  content  with  the  situation;  she  ac- 
cepted his  gifts  with  careless  thanks  and  a  charming 
smile,  enjoyed  the  promenades,  but  was  sedulous 
to  keep  him  away  from  a  definite  statement  or  even 
a  plain-spoken  hint  of  his  feelings.  Was  she  a 
designing  creature  who  wished  to  get  as  much  as 
she  could  from  him  before  saying  "  No  "  ?  Or  did 
a  nobler  emotion  possess  her?  Was  she  judiciously 


85 

probing  his  character  and  sounding  the  depths  of 
her  own  feelings? 

However  this  may  have  been,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  both  were  content  with  the  present.  And  on 
a  night  in  June,  some  three  weeks  before  the  events 
of  the  last  chapter,  Henry  Brown  might  have  been 
seen  seated  opposite  his  friend  in  a  cheap  Soho  res- 
taurant. They  had  just  finished  supper,  and  both 
were  smoking.  To  be  honest,  Mr.  Brown  did  not 
altogether  approve  of  the  cigarette,  but  he  had  never 
dared  to  object.  "  Besides,"  he  thought  tolerantly, 
"  these  foreigners  ....  But  what  I  wonder  is, 
when  they  marry  do  they  take  to  a  pipe?  If  so, 
good  lord!  .  .  ."  His  distress  vanished  as  he 
looked  again  upon  her:  she  was  too  pretty  to  dis- 
approve of.  "A  bit  of  Orl  right,"  he  reflected; 
"if  only  I  dared  ask  her  and  she  said  '  Yes.' ' 

The  time  for  separation  came  at  last,  and  Mr. 
Brown  sighed  as  he  helped  her  put  on  her  coat. 
On  the  steps  of  the  restaurant  they  paused,  for  it 
was  raining.  "  You  must  have  a  cab,"  he  said 
decisively ;  and  then,  hesitating,  "  I  wish  you  would 
let  me  see  you  home  for  once." 

She  glanced  up. 

"  For  this  once,  just  a  little  way." 


86  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Her  partial  acquiescence  surprised  him,  for  hith- 
erto he  had  never  been  permitted  to  escort  her  home 
in  a  cab.  As  a  hansom  drove  up  in  answer  to  the 
whistle,  he  wondered  if  it  might  be  taken  as  a  sign. 
With  bounding  pulses  he  thought,  *'  Shall  I  risk  it 
and  ask  her?  "  And  then,  with  a  return  of  sanity, 
"  No;  better  wait  and  not  spoil  it."  He  handed  her 
in  carefully,  stepped  in  beside  her,  and  asked  what 
address  he  should  give.  "  Oh,  Trafalgar  Square," 
she  replied  carelessly,  "  and  then  St.  Paul's  if  neces- 
sary." He  obeyed,  wondering  what  she  could 
mean. 

The  cab  had  scarcely  started  before  she  turned 
to  him  and  said  demurely,  "You  must  think  this 
strange  —  immodest,  almost.  But  I  have  a  reason. 
First  of  all,  I  wish  to  thank  you  for  your  many 
kindnesses." 

She  paused,  and  he  was  understood  to  murmur, 
"  Not  at  all.  An  honor."  She  continued : 

"But  there  is  a  question  I  must  ask,  and  I  beg 
a  truthful  answer.  Why  have  you  so  befriended 
a  poor  and  humble  girl  like  myself?  " 

At  this  question  Henry  Brown  performed  a  volte- 
face.  A  moment  before  he  had  resolved  to  wait. 
But  being  in  love,  encouraged  by  an  excellent  sup- 
per and  some  Chianti,  and  fired  by  the  graciousness 


THE  HISTORY  OF  HENRY  BROWN        87 

of  his  divinity,  he  threw  caution  to  the  winds. 
Though  in  the  privacy  of  his  office  he  had  more 
than  once  rehearsed  the  scene  and  prepared  effective 
orations,  beginning  "  Miss,"  "  Honored  Ma'am- 
selle,"  and  "  My  dear  Miss,"  he  merely  said,  "  Well, 
it's  this  way,  you  see:  I  love  you." 

The  age  of  "  This  is  so  sudden "  has  passed 
away;  hence  it  was  not  unconventional  for  the  girl 
to  affect  no  surprise  at  the  announcement.  She  was 
conventional  enough  to  turn  her  head  for  a  moment 
and  appear  to  be  thinking  deeply.  She  also  obeyed 
the  rules  by  observing  presently,  "  But  that  is  fool- 
ish." Mr.  Brown,  his  devotion  crystallizing  into 
a  sensible  effort  to  win  her,  forgot  his  shyness  and 
enlarged  on  the  pleasing  theme. 

"  I  beg  to  differ,"  he  said  steadily,  though  his 
heart  was  beating  fast  and  the  roof  of  his  mouth 
was  curiously  parched.  "  I  don't  consider  it  fool- 
ish at  all.  I  have  loved  you  for  a  goodish  time, 
and  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife.  I  am  not  a  boy, 
miss,  as  you  know.  I'm  a  serious  man  of  forty, 
for  it's  no  use  trying  to  hide  my  age  or  my  serious- 
ness. I  have  enough  to  keep  us  both  in  comfort, 
and  —  and  I  really  love  you  very  much." 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  an  expression  that 
kind  and  not  at  all  embarrassed, 


88  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"Listen!"  she  said,  more  steadily  than  he.  "I 
thank  you  very  much.  I  guessed  that  you  liked  me, 
but  —  but  I  am  not  quite  sure  of  you." 

"Of  me!"  he  repeated  in  amazement.  "Why, 
I  —  I  swear  that  I  love  you.  What  are  you  not 
sure  of?  My  income?  (Excuse  me  for  mention- 
ing it,  miss.)  You  can  look  at  my  books  if  you 
like.  My  character?  Any  of  the  neighbors  would 
speak  for  me " 

She  waved  her  hand  impatiently. 

"  It  is  not  that.  Only  I  am  not  sure  that  you 
love  Romance." 

He  started. 

"  Romance !  I  dunno  .  .  ."  he  said  blankly. 
"What  are  the  symptoms  ?  I  know  I  love  you  right 
enough,  but  Romance.  .  .  ." 

"  Exactly.  I  do  not  know.  I  like  you  —  oh ! 
very  much  indeed.  Sometimes  I  think  I  love  you, 
but  then  a  doubt  creeps  in.  Suppose,  I  say,  he  has 
not  a  soul !  " 

"  Oh,  come !  "  remonstrated  the  other.  "  You 
ought  to  know  better  than  that.  Why,  that's  pretty 
near  atheism !  I  go  to  church " 

"  It  is  not  that  kind  of  soul,"  she  explained.  "  I 
mean,  a  sense  of  adventure  —  of  excitement  —  in 
a  word,  romance!  To  marry  a  man  without  ro 


mance  would  be  insupportable;  life  would  be  too 
dull.  If  only  I  could  be  sure  that  you  had  romance, 
I  might  .  .  ." 

"  Try  me,"  said  the  practical  Henry.  "  I  must 
say,  miss,  I  don't  exactly  see  what  you  mean.  But 
I'd  do  anything  to  please  you.  Tell  me  how  to  set 
about  this  romance  idea  and  I'll  do  my  best." 

"  You  mean  that  ? "  she  asked,  her  eyes  spark- 
ling. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  stoutly.  "Anything  in  rea- 
son." 

"  Or  unreason?  The  true  romance  knows  no 
reason." 

Mr.  Brown,  against  his  better  judgment,  but  com- 
pelled by  her  attractions,  said,  "  It's  a  bet !  " 

After  this  momentous  decision  there  was  a  si- 
lence. The  lady  sank  back  in  her  seat  and  began  to 
meditate  with  a  pleased  smile.  Henry  Brown,  a 
whirl  of  conflicting  emotions,  looked  gaily  out  into 
the  street  It  was  depressing  to  the  view,  wet, 
dirty  and  forbidding;  but  to  him  it  was  the  ante- 
chamber of  Paradise.  At  last  he  was  by  way  of 
realizing  his  ideal:  his  frequent  failures  and  per- 
sistent struggles  were  presently  to  be  crowned  with 
fulfilment.  In  a  burst  of  noble  emotion  he  resolved 
to  give  the  cabman  a  sovereign.  He  turned  his  head 


90  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

once  more  to  look  at  his  charmer  and  caught  sight 
of  a  little  white  hand  lying  carelessly  on  the  seat.  It 
suggested  a  happy  idea;  and  with  a  respectful  ten- 
derness he  lifted  it  and  pressed  it  warmly. 

"  Oh !  you  must  not !  " 

"  Beg  pardon !  "  he  said,  though  he  was  sensible 
enough  not  to  drop  the  hand ;  "  it  was  this  romance 
idea  that  put  it  into  my  head.  I  hope  you  don't 
mind." 

"  But  we  are  not  promised !  " 

"  On  Trust,  eh?"  he  said  cheerfully.  "Well,  I 
suppose  I  must  wait  till  I  can  say  Paid  For.  You've 
been  thinking  of  some  scheme  to  try  me,  haven't 
you?" 

"  The  scheme  is  ready,"  she  replied  gravely.  "  I 
was  wondering  whether  you  are  strong  enough  to 
obey.  It  may  mean  danger  .  .  ." 

"  Fourteen  stone  and  in  fair  training,"  he  said 
complacently. 

"  Ridicule  .  .  ." 

"  I  shan't  be  laughed  at  more  than  once." 

"  Perhaps  .  .  .  prison." 

"  Crumbs !  "  observed  Henry  Brown,  stiffening. 
"  My  dear  —  beg  pardon  —  miss,  I  mean.  You're 
not  one  of  them  anarchists?  " 

"  No.     I  have  done  nothing  wrong.     Only,  events 


THE  HISTORY  OF  HENRY  BROWN        91 

might  put  you  in  a  false  position.  You  might  be 
accused  and  be  obliged  to  be  silent.  Would  you 
flinch  from  prison  in  a  good  cause  ?  " 

For  a  disgraceful  moment  Henry  Brown  wished 
to  say,  "  The  cause  be  bio  wed,"  but  happily  his  eyes 
met  hers.  Innocence,  reinforced  by  pretty  features, 
has  an  easy  prey  in  besotted  experience.  She  low- 
ered her  lashes  in  virginal  confusion  and  appeal. 
"I'll  do  it!"  said  Henry  Brown,  setting  his  teeth. 
"  That  is,  if  you're  on  the  square." 

She  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  thank  you !  thank  you !  I  promise  that  I 
am  on  the  square.  Really,  I  am  a  victim  .... 
What  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  become,  for  a  short 
time,  a  kind  of  detective." 

"  A  detective !  " 

"  An  amateur.  If  you  can  leave  the  guidance  of 
your  business  to  another  for  a  time." 

Her  hand  touched  his  again,  possibly  by  ac- 
cident. 

"  N  —  yes,"  he  said,  determined.  "  Yes,  I  mean 
-yes." 

"  I  shall  tell  you  the  story  another  time.  For  the 
present  I  shall  say  that  it  has  to  do  with  some  papers. 
I  may  ask  you  to  follow  and  watch  a  man.  I  may 
ask  you  to  get  back  for  me  the  documents.  I  may 


92  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

—  I  do  not  know.  It  may  even  be  necessary  for 
you  to  leave  London  for  a  brief  space.  For  the 
present  we  can  do  nothing,  but  will  you  hold  your- 
self in  readiness  to  act  at  a  word  —  a  sign  —  a  tele- 
gram from  me  ?  " 

Things  were  developing  more  rapidly  than  Henry 
Brown  liked,  but  he  was  a  man  of  his  word  and  — 
she  was  a  delightful  creature. 

"  I  will." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  breathed,  and  this  time  plainly 
pressed  his  hand.  He  seized  it  and  returned  the 
pressure,  feeling  like  a  knight  of  the  middle  ages. 
(Or  a  middle-aged  knight?)  "And  you  are  con- 
tent to  do  this  without  reasons  —  explanations?" 

"If  you'll  give  me  one  excuse,"  he  said  craftily. 

"Bitte?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  call  it  in  your  language," 
said  Henry,  and  hesitated.  A  shred  of  bash  fulness 
still  hung  about  him,  but  he  was  growing  up  fast  — 
expanding  like  a  flower  beneath  the  sun.  "  May  I 
explain  ?  "  he  asked  courageously. 

"  But  certainly !  " 

So  Henry  kissed  her. 

"  For  that  excuse,"  he  whispered  with  a  new- 
found eloquence,  "  I'd  do  more  than  you  ask." 


THE  HISTORY  OF  HENRY  BROWN        93 

She  laughed  and  imprinted  a  feather  upon  his 
cheek. 

"  So  you  have  a  soul  after  all !  "  she  said  happily. 
"  I  congratulate  you  and  .  .  .  myself." 

The  last  word  was  inaudible;  indeed  it  was  not 
meant  for  the  new  henchman  of  Romance. 


CHAPTER  VII 
MR.  HEDDERWICK'S  FIRST  ADVENTURE 

4 '    A    LICIA,  my  dear,"  said  Robert  Hedderwick 

AJL  to  his  wife,  as  he  was  smoking  after  din- 
ner, "  shall  we  talk  about  our  annual  holiday?  " 

His  wife,  a  determined  lady  of  forty-five  —  six 
years  younger  than  he, —  put  down  her  knitting. 

"  By  all  means,  Robert,  if  you  wish.  But  I  do 
not  know  what  there  is  to  discuss.  It  is  not  yet 
July  and  we  never  go  away  till  August,  so  there  is 
plenty  of  time." 

"  But  why  should  we  not  go  away  in  July  this 
year  ?  "  he  suggested,  somewhat  diffidently. 

"Why  should  we?" 

"  Well  ...  it  would  be  a  change.  .  .  ." 

"  A  most  undesirable  and  unnecessary  change," 
said  his  wife  decisively,  picking  up  her  knitting 
again.  "  August  is  the  hottest  month,  and  August 
in  London  would  be  unbearable.  Besides,  change 
for  the  mere  sake  of  change  is  childish.  You  might 
as  well  suggest  our  going  somewhere  else  than  Cro- 
mer." 

94 


MR.  HEDDERWICK'S  ADVENTURE      95 

"  Well  ...  er  ..."  said  Mr.  Hedderwick  nerv- 
ously, "  why  shouldn't  we  ?  Cromer  is  a  charming 
place  —  charming;  but  we  have  been  there  twelve 
years  running.  Don't  you  think " 

"  Cromer  suits  my  health.  And  yours,"  Alicia 
added  after  a  moment's  thought.  "And  mother 
would  be  disappointed  if  we  didn't  go.  You  don't 
seem  to  have  thought  of  that." 

Her  husband  opened  his  mouth  to  say  "  I  have, 
my  dear,"  but  changed  the  words  to  "  Oh  ...  ah 
.  .  .  yes  ...  of  course."  Then  he  got  up,  walked 
to  the  window  in  rather  an  aimless  fashion,  and 
stared  out.  Presently  he  began  to  whistle. 

"  Please  do  not  whistle,  Robert,"  said  Alicia  re- 
provingly. "  You  know  I  can  not  endure  it." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Robert  submissively. 
"  I  forgot." 

"  You  want  something  to  do,"  observed  his  wife, 
as  one  who  gives  an  order.  "  You've  done  nothing 
but  smoke  since  dinner.  Why  don't  you  go  and  dig 
in  the  garden?  " 

"I  —  I  don't  feel  like  gardening." 

"  Or  read.     Where  is  your  book  that " 

"  I  —  I  don't  feel  like  reading." 

"  The  truth  is,  you  don't  know  what  you  do 
want,"  said  Alicia  firmly.  "  You  men  are  just  like 


96  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

children  when  you  haven't  got  a  definite  task.  Un- 
til you  retired  from  the  business  you  were  always 
perfectly  happy.  Now  that  your  days  are  free  you 
don't  know  what  to  do  with  yourself.  Here !  come 
and  hold  my  wool  for  me !  " 

She  laid  her  knitting  down  on  the  table  and 
picked  up  a  skein  of  white  wool  that  lay  near.  Her 
husband,  with  a  resigned  expression,  mutely  held  up 
his  hands.  The  wool  was  placed  over  them,  and 
then,  after  strict  injunctions  not  to  stir,  or  get  tan- 
gled, or  drop  an  end,  or  breathe  too  audibly,  Mrs. 
Hedderwick  began  to  wind  it  into  a  ball. 

As  the  uncongenial  task  went  on,  Robert  reflected 
disconsolately  that  his  bid  for  freedom  had  not  met 
with  much  success.  He  had  had  hopes  that  this 
year  at  least  Alicia  would  have  consented  to  go  to 
some  other  place  for  their  holiday.  He  was  tired 
of  Cromer  and  wanted  a  change.  Also,  he  was  not 
enthusiastic  for  another  holiday  spent  under  the 
wing  of  Alicia's  mother,  Mrs.  Ainsley.  She  was 
too  like  her  —  he  checked  the  heretical  thought  and 
substituted  "  too  determined  " —  to  make  him  anx- 
ious to  renew  her  acquaintance  more  often  than  he 
was  obliged.  "  Obliged."  .  .  .  The  word  buzzed 
unpleasantly  in  the  brain.  His  prophetic  instinct 
told  him  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  yield  to  Alicia's 


MR.  HEDDERWICK'S  ADVENTURE      97 

wishes.  If  he  ventured  to  suggest  once  more  that 
Eastbourne  or  Brighton  might  be  preferable  to  Cro- 
mer,  he  knew  too  well  what  would  happen.  Alicia 
would  say  firmly,  "  No,  Robert ;  you  know  We  set- 
tled on  Cromer,  and  it  would  be  silly  to  change  Our 
minds  now."  Supposing  he  dared  greatly  and  put 
his  foot  down ;  supposing  he  said,  "  I  will  not  go 
there :  I  will  go  to  Brighton !  "  what  would  happen  ? 
He  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  would  never  have 
the  courage  to  be  so  rebellious  as  all  that;  but  he 
kept  playing  with  the  notion  as  one  plays  with 
temptation  in  daily  life.  If  only  he  dared!  He 
might  say,  "  I  will  not,  Alicia !  "  and  then  bolt  from 
the  house.  It  would  be  rather  fun,  an  adventure, 
to  run  away  ...  all  by  himself.  By  himself! 
what  a  holiday  that  would  be!  He  laughed  aloud 
at  the  thought. 

"  I  see  nothing  amusing  in  the  wool  being  tan- 
gled," said  Alicia's  voice  reprovingly,  and  he  jumped 
in  alarm. 

"  I  was  not  laughing  at  that,  my  dear,"  he  said 
appeasingly.  "  I  was  thinking  of  something  else." 

Alicia  sniffed,  but  maintained  a  fortunate  silence. 
When  she  finished  she  said,  "  I  am  going  out  to 
take  the  sewing  meeting  for  an  hour  or  so.  Will 
you  be  in?" 


98  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  Robert  cheerfully,  and  a 
few  minutes  later  he  heard  the  front  door  close. 

Left  to  himself,  he  walked  to  the  window  and 
resumed  his  idle  staring.  Remembering  that  now 
he  was  a  free  agent  he  began  to  whistle  again,  a 
trifle  mournfully,  for  he  was  meditating  on  life. 
This,  for  the  average  man,  as  a  rule,  begets  melan- 
choly—  particularly  if  it  is  his  own  life  he  reflects 
on. 

Robert  Hedderwick  had  been  chief  cashier  in  a 
big  store  for  more  than  fifteen  years.  He  had 
earned  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year  (with 
an  occasional  bonus)  for  some  time,  and  on  the 
whole  he  had  enjoyed  his  work.  At  least  it  had 
always  been  interesting,  and  had  given  him  that 
most  necessary  of  all  things  —  regular  and  definite 
occupation.  And  though  at  times  he  used  to  wish 
he  was  a  partner  or  had  more  prospects,  still  he  had 
been  contented.  Then  at  the  age  of  fifty  an  uncle 
had  died  and  left  him  a  handsome  competence. 
Alicia  at  once  had  made  him  forswear  the  office 
and  set  up  as  a  gentleman  of  leisure.  Not  that  he 
had  been  unwilling  to  obey.  At  first  he  had  wel- 
comed the  relief  from  thraldom.  It  was  a  luxury 
to  be  able  to  lie  in  bed  a  little  longer,  if  he  wished, 
without  feeling  "  I  must  get  up  now,  or  I  shall  miss 


MR.  HEDDERWICK'S  ADVENTURE      99 

the  eight-fifty."  It  was  a  luxury  to  sit  at  ease  in  his 
strip  of  garden  on  a  fine  morning  and  read  the  news- 
paper. It  was  not  unpleasant  to  think  that  his 
former  colleagues  were  saying,  "  Lucky  chap,  Hed- 
derwick !  "  what  time  they  were  under  the  eyes  of 
their  master. 

But  these  and  similar  luxuries  palled  after  a  time, 
and  he  began  to  grow,  not  exactly  discontented,  but 
restless  and  vaguely  unhappy.  He  had  no  hobbies, 
save  reading,  and  none  but  the  ardent  student  wishes 
to  read  throughout  the  day.  He  felt  himself  a  lit- 
tle old  to  begin  photography,  stamp-collecting  or 
wood-carving;  still,  recognizing  the  need  of  some 
occupation,  he  tried  to  do  a  little  gardening.  The 
strip  of  land  at  the  back  of  the  house  was  small, 
being  some  thirty  yards  long  by  twenty  broad. 
Two-thirds  of  this  was  grass,  which  he  mowed  con- 
scientiously once  a  week:  the  rest  was  given  up  to 
flowers.  As  Robert  knew  nothing  of  flowers,  he 
employed  a  man  to  do  what  was  necessary  in  the 
way  of  digging  and  planting.  When  the  serious 
business  of  horticulture  was  finished  he  would  em- 
ploy himself  in  cutting  off  dying  blossoms,  uproot- 
ing weeds  and  watering.  But  the  sum  total  of  his 
labor  in  the  little  plot  did  not  amount  to  more  than 
four  or  five  hours  a  week. 


ioo  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

His  wife  was  an  active  —  too  active  for  the 
vicar's  wife  —  supporter  of  Saint  Frideswide's 
Church,  and  when  her  husband  became  one  of  the 
leisured  classes  she  did  her  utmost  to  spur  him  to 
a  like  interest.  He  obeyed  passively,  became  a 
sidesman,  and  in  due  course  vicar's  warden.  He 
was  not,  to  use  the  vicar's  words,  "  a  keen  church- 
man," being  on  the  whole  an  optimistic  pragmatist 
rather  than  a  devotee  of  dogma.  But  he  was  a  good 
man,  cheerful,  kindly,  with  some  harmless  vanities. 
He  liked,  for  example,  to  take  the  alms-bag  round 
and  lead  the  procession  of  collectors.  He  would 
complain  of  the  trouble  entailed  by  the  organization 
of  the  annual  treat  or  the  parish  tea,  but  secretly  he 
appreciated  the  occupation  and  the  importance 
thereof.  These  things  helped  to  fill  a  portion  of 
a  vacant  existence,  but  they  were  not  enough.  He 
felt  that  he  was  rusting. 

This  evening  "  melancholy  marked  him  for  her 
own."  It  had  been  a  day  more  vacant  of  incident 
than  usual,  and  he  was  almost  bad-tempered.  The 
thought  of  the  recent  defeat  by  Alicia  rankled,  and 
he  turned  over  in  his  mind  schemes  by  which  he 
could  outwit  her  and  procure  a  holiday  in  Brighton. 
"  It's  all  very  well,"  he  grumbled  to  himself,  "  but 
I  don't  see  why  I  should  continually  knuckle  under. 


MR.  HEDDERWICK'S  ADVENTURE   101 

I've  been  too  easy-going.  It's  time  things  were  put 
on  a  different  footing.  I  wonder  if  .  .  ." 

He  was  still  wondering  when  Alicia  returned, 
and  the  solution  of  his  difficulties  was  not  yet. 
Alicia,  who  was  in  an  aggressive  good-humor,  com- 
mented on  his  dulness.  Robert  replied  in  a  tone 
that  she  characterized  as  "  snappy  " ;  she  also  made 
the  inevitable  suggestion  that  he  had  eaten  some- 
thing that  disagreed  with  him. 

"  Good  lord! "  said  Robert,  goaded  at  last  be- 
yond caution  and  fear.  "  Who  wouldn't  be  snappy, 
doing  nothing  half  the  day,  and  the  other  half 
doing  what  he  doesn't  like?  Nothing  ever  hap- 
pens here  —  it's  like  being  a  fly  buzzing  in  a  tum- 
bler. He  can't  get  out,  though  he  can  see  all  sorts 
of  interesting  things  through  the  glass." 

"  You  ought  to  be  thankful  for  your  many  mer- 
cies," said  his  wife  coldly:  she  knew  the  treatment 
for  the  case.  "  Instead  of  grumbling  like  a  child, 
you  had  better  go  to  bed.  That  is,  if  you  have  fin- 
ished supper." 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Hedderwick  had  one  of  the 
strongest  temptations  of  a  blameless  life.  He 
yearned  for  the  courage  to  say,  "  Oh,  damn  the 
supper ! "  but  broke  into  a  perspiration  at  the  mere 
thought.  Instead,  he  had  the  grace  to  be  aston- 


102  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ished  at  his  mood  and  weakly  answered,  "  I  think 
I  shall,  my  dear."  As  he  opened  the  door  his  help- 
meet suggested  he  should  not  forget  at  his  private 
devotions  to  ask  for  a  contented  spirit.  Rebellion 
returned,  and  he  banged  the  door. 

He  soon  forgot  his  troubles  in  sleep;  in  fact,  he 
did  not  even  hear  his  wife  come  to  bed.  He  slept 
dreamlessly,  despite  the  suggestion  that  he  had  com- 
mitted an  error  in  diet,  until  a  quarter  past  one. 
Then  he  awoke  quite  suddenly,  with  a  dim  idea 
that  something  was  happening.  He  sat  up  in  bed, 
rubbed  his  eyes,  and  listened:  no,  there  seemed  to 
be  nothing  .  .  .  everything  was  still :  only  the  reg- 
ular breathing  of  his  wife,  fast  asleep,  was  to  be 
heard.  "  I  must  have  been  dreaming,"  he  thought, 
preparing  to  lie  down  again.  And  then  he  heard 
a  subdued,  but  distinct,  noise  down-stairs. 

Robert  experienced  a  chill  that  crept,  via  the 
spine  and  nape,  to  his  brain.  The  short  hairs  on 
the  back  of  his  head  felt  as  if  they  had  begun  to 
bristle.  A  ghostly  cowardice  flooded  his  being, 
penetrating  to  the  uttermost  recesses.  "  Good 
lord!"  he  thought,  "it  must  be  a  burglar!"  His 
first  instinct  was  to  lie  down  and  draw  the  clothes 
over  his  head;  his  second,  to  jab  his  wife  sharply 
in  the  ribs:  company  in  the  imminent  peril  was  his 


MR.  HEDDERWICK'S  ADVENTURE   103 

prime  necessity.  Both  these  base  impulses  he  con- 
trolled. Though  elderly,  he  felt  himself  still  a 
man;  and  despite  the  fact  that  he  had  no  audience, 
no  public  opinion  to  make  heroism  easy,  he  realized 
that  his  part  must  be  played  alone  at  all  costs. 

As  he  came  to  this  resolve  his  natural  apprehen- 
sion subsided:  he  felt  calmer,  more  collected.  Sit- 
ting up  in  bed,  he  listened  with  strained  ears.  For 
a  moment  there  was  silence;  then  came  the  quiet 
but  distinct  opening  of  a  door  below.  His  misgiv- 
ings had  a  solid  foundation;  and  with  a  dismal  de- 
termination Robert  cautiously  got  out  of  bed. 

Why  he  did  not  wake  his  wife  he  hardly  knew. 
Perhaps  it  was  chivalry,  perhaps  a  subconscious 
sense  that  she  might  spoil  the  fun.  Yes,  that  was 
the  odd  phrase  that  formed  in  his  mind  once  the 
temporary  panic  was  subdued.  With  a  wry  smile 
—  remembering  his  previous  complaints  of  a  vacant 
life  and  his  thirst  for  adventures  —  Robert  tiptoed 
cautiously  to  the  dressing-table.  Here  he  made  a 
swift  and  partial  toilet.  He  slipped  on  a  pair  of 
trousers,  a  coat  and  some  boots  —  for  in  the  midst 
of  his  apprehensions  he  had  a  foolish  idea  that  the 
burglar  might  tread  on  his  toes.  Then  without 
noise  he  opened  the  top  right-hand  corner  drawer, 
where  he  kept  his  collars  and  handkerchiefs,  and 


104  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

took  out  a  small  revolver.  As  he  handled  the  stock 
he  felt  his  new  manhood  glowing  like  champagne 
in  every  artery.  Life !  He  had  begun  to  live. 

How  did  it  happen  that  a  harmless  churchwar- 
den and  retired  cashier  possessed  so  lethal  a 
weapon?  Simply,  it  was  due  to  a  mixture  of  pre- 
caution and  romanticism.  He  had  always  thought 
a  burglar  might  come,  and  deep  in  his  composition 
lay  a  vein  of  adventure.  It  was  fine  to  have  a 
pistol  —  a  loaded  pistol  —  even  though  never  used. 
It  gave  a  sense  of  power  and  desperation.  He  some- 
times fondled  it  and  dreamed  of  defending  himself 
against  a  marauder  or  a  mob.  But  such  demonstra- 
tions took  place  only  when  his  wife  was  out. 

Robert  took  the  pistol  in  an  unshaking  hand  and 
conveyed  himself  quietly  from  the  room.  He  was 
not  in  the  least  frightened  now;  indeed  he  was  be- 
ginning to  enjoy  this  new  sense  of  being  master  of 
the  situation.  Quietly  he  crept  down-stairs,  as  close 
to  the  wall  as  possible  to  prevent  creaking.  At  the 
foot  of  the  stairs  he  stood  still  and  listened.  .  .  . 
There  was  no  sound.  But  from  the  keyhole  of  the 
drawing-room  came  a  little  pencil  of  light.  Behind 
the  door  was  —  what  ?  Robert  cocked  the  pistol, 
opened  the  door,  and  with  a  little  gasp  of  triumph 
said,  "Hands  up!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   TALE  AND   ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

THERE  were  two  people  in  the  room  as  Mr. 
Hedderwick  opened  the  door,  a  man  and  a 
lady.  The  latter,  he  noted  with  amazement,  was  in 
evening  dress,  a  light  cloak  being  thrown  over  it; 
the  former  wore  the  ordinary  morning  dress  of  a 
man  about  town,  neat,  though  a  little  shiny,  and  on 
his  head  was  a  top  hat.  At  Robert's  command  he 
turned  with  a  violent  start:  the  lady  started,  too, 
but  in  a  moment  recovered  her  composure  and 
laughed.  "Good  morning,"  she  said  cheerfully: 
"  I  can't  say  this  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  for  that 
would  be  only  a  half-truth.  And  now,  what  are 
you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Robert,  considerably  taken  aback  at  the  character 
of  his  prisoners  and  his  own  reception,  paused  a 
moment  before  replying.  He  was  breathing  a  lit- 
tle noisily  from  pure  excitement,  but  still  he  was 
careful  to  keep  the  pistol  at  a  threatening  angle. 

"  Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "  in  the  first  place  I  warn 

you  that  I  shall  shoot  if  you  move  — — " 

105 


io6  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"Of  course,"  she  agreed  brightly,  "  that  would 
be  the  most  sensible  thing  to  do.  But  we  have  no 
intention  of  being  so  foolish.  It  seems  that  you 
hold  the  whip-hand,  so  —  shall  we  sit  down  and  dis- 
cuss the  situation  ?  " 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Robert,  gaping.  "  You 
will  find  that  armchair  the  most  comfortable." 

She  seated  herself,  and  her  companion  was  about 
to  follow  suit.  But  he  checked  himself,  picked  up 
a  gaily-colored  rug  from  the  sofa,  and  with  a  smile 
said,  "  There  is  no  need  for  even  a  jailer  to  catch 
cold."  He  threw  it  lightly  across  to  Robert,  who 
caught  it  with  a  blush.  He  wished  foolishly  he 
had  put  on  a  collar.  Then  the  man  sat  down  and 
looked  at  the  lady  as  if  waiting  for  instructions. 
Robert  followed  his  example,  taking  care  to  inter- 
pose the  table  between  them  in  case  of  a  surprise. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  lady  again,  "  what  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  Send  for  a  policeman  ?  " 

It  was  the  obvious  course,  but  Robert  on  a  sud- 
den felt  that  it  would  be  impossible.  When  he  had 
valiantly  left  his  bed,  seized  his  weapon  and  pre- 
pared to  capture  a  burglar  or  two,  he  had  in  mind 
merely  the  vision  of  an  ordinary  hooligan.  The 
reality  upset  him.  He  needed  time  to  adjust  his 
ideas. 


A  TALE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES     107 

"  I  suppose  I  must,"  he  said  apologetically.  "  I 
am  exceedingly  sorry,  but  really,  you  know " 

"Oh,  we  quite  understand,"  returned  Beatrice 
(for  of  course  it  was  she  and  Lionel)  with  a  frank 
camaraderie.  "  It  must  be  a  painful  position  for 
you  as  well  as  for  us.  But  perhaps,  before  decid- 
ing, you  would  like  to  hear  the  reason  of  our  visit?  " 

His  eyes  brightened;  he  grasped  an  idea. 

"  Excellent !  "  he  said.  "  I  have  the  satisfaction 
of  having  frustrated  your  design,  and  honestly  I 
am  not  in  love  with  the  notion  of  giving  you  in 
charge.  Besides  .  .  ."  he  hesitated  as  if  ashamed, 
but  decided  on  candor,  "my  life  is  a  trifle  dull, 
and  if  you  can  tell  me  a  really  interesting  tale, 
well  .  .  ." 

"  Sir,  you  are  a  sportsman,"  observed  Lionel ; 
and  Beatrice  added  persuasively,  "A  perfect 
dear!" 

"  Flattery  is  useless,"  he  replied.  "  I  don't  want 
that.  Tell  me  a  good  tale,  and  perhaps  .  .  ." 

"  I  will  tell  you  all,"  said  Beatrice.  "If  we  were 
captured  I  had  meant  to  keep  silence ;  but  your  gen- 
erous offer  compels  a  change  of  plan.  You  shall 
have  a  frank  truthful " 

"  I  do  not  insist  on  truth,"  said  Robert,  stroking 
his  nose.  "  but  it  must  be  interesting."  He  stopped, 


io8  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

aghast  at  his  own  depravity.  Then  he  laughed 
gently.  "Morality  is  hard  to  achieve  at  this  hour. 
But  come !  A  good  tale !  " 

Lionel  smiled.  He  had  faith  in  Beatrice  as  a 
story-teller,  even  if  he  was  a  little  doubtful  of  her 
other  qualities.  He  settled  himself  on  the  sofa, 
prepared  not  only  to  hear  but  criticize.  As  for  Mr. 
Hedderwick,  he  was  so  eager  that  he  laid  down  the 
revolver  on  the  table  and  leaned  forward  on  his 
elbows.  To  all  appearance  he  might  have  been  a 
boy  listening  to  a  true  yarn  of  pirates  and  savages. 

Beatrice,  without  effort  or  hesitation,  began  to 
speak.  A  second  Scheherezade,  she  was  fighting 
for  her  husband  and  her  own  freedom,  and  every- 
thing conspired  to  lend  her  aid.  She  had  a  thrill- 
ing story  to  tell  at  first  hand ;  she  had  the  dramatic 
instinct  and  an  appreciative  audience.  Not  only  Mr. 
Hedderwick  but  Lionel,  too,  listened  with  rapt  at- 
tention. The  tale  lived,  as  told  by  her,  bearing  the 
stamp  of  truth  and  humor  in  every  syllable  her  lips 
uttered.  And  Lionel,  keeping  guard  over  himself 
with  a  loving  suspicion,  noticed  that  in  no  particu- 
lars did  she  depart  from  the  original  version.  He 
cursed  himself  that  any  shred  of  doubt  could  still 
cling  about  him.  Did  any  cling?  Surely  not,  and 


A  TALE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES      109 

yet  ....  Pish!  it  was  not  merely  disloyal  —  it 
was  ludicrous :  the  two  stories  were  identical.  Had 
the  first  been  lies  she  must  now  have  betrayed  her- 
self. 

Not  that  she  told  her  story  in  such  detail  as  she 
had  to  Lionel:  there  was  not  time  for  that.  The 
precis  of  her  life  and  adventures  lasted  no  more 
than  half  an  hour :  all  that  mattered  was  there,  but 
the  smaller  details  were  absent.  A  touch  here,  and 
the  kidnaping  was  painted  in  a  dozen  words;  a  line 
there,  and  she  had  swept  them  to  Constantinople: 
a  paragraph  depicted  Lukos  with  a  master  hand  — 
a  few  vivid  sentences  described  the  flight.  Then 
came  the  stage,  her  meeting  with  Lionel  (five  pages 
to  the  rescue,  the  taxi  deleted  altogether,  and  three 
lines  to  the  dressing-room),  and  lastly,  the  treach- 
ery of  Mizzi.  She  brought  her  story  down  to  the 
moment  of  their  capture,  not  forgetting  to  tell  how 
they  had  effected  their  entrance  by  means  of  skele- 
ton keys.  "  And  that  is  all,"  she  said  at  last,  draw- 
ing a  breath  of  relief. 

"  Not  quite  all,"  said  Mr.  Hedderwick  witK 
rounded  eyes.  "Lord!  what  a  tale!  what  a  life! 
Compared  with  this  .  .  ." — his  eyes  wandered  dis- 
contentedly round  the  room,  and  he  did  not  finish 


ii  io  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

the  sentence.  "  But  go  on  —  go  on !  Tell  me  why 
you  hid  the  papers  here." 

"  Partly  by  chance,  partly  design.  I  meant  to 
hide  them  in  a  stranger's  house,  thinking  they  would 
be  safest  there.  One  evening  as  I  walked  this  way 
I  saw  a  machine  in  front  of  your  door.  It  was  a 
vacuum  cleaner !  That  decided  me.  It  meant  that 
after  they  had  finished  there  was  no  likelihood  of 
your  carpets  being  lifted  for  some  time." 

"  My  carpets !  "  gasped  Robert.  "  What  the  - 

"Oh,  do  wait!"  said  Beatrice  pettishly;  and  he 
collapsed,  as  was  only  fitting.  "  I  came  next  day 
and  the  cleaner  had  gone.  During  the  morning  I 
made  discreet  inquiries  as  to  your  habits  and  mode 
of  life.  In  the  evening  I  hired  a  cab,  drove  to  Ken- 
sington to  put  any  possible  trackers  off  the  scent, 
changed  into  another  cab  and  drove  back  here.  At 
seven-thirty  I  called.  You  were  out,  and  your  wife 
said  you  would  not  be  back  for  at  least  half  an  hour. 
I  asked  if  I  might  wait,  as  my  business  was  im- 
portant. She  hesitated,  but  consented,  my  sables 
being  a  guarantee  that  I  had  not  come  with  any 
designs  on  your  plate. 

"  However,  to  my  disgust  she  insisted  on  remain- 
ing in  the  room  and  discussing  trivialities.  Of 
course,  as  long  as  she  remained  I  was  helpless,  and 


A  TALE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES      in 

my  well-meant  hints  were  disregarded.  I  was  in 
despair;  but  presently  the  cook  burst  in  with  a 
woeful  tale  of  a  scorched  petticoat,  and  the  situa- 
tion was  saved.  Your  wife  darted  out  to  survey 
the  damage,  and  the  next  moment  my  precious 
papers  were  hidden  beneath  the  carpet. 

"  Mrs.  Hedderwick  returned  within  a  very  few 
minutes,  full  of  apologies  and  (I  fear)  regrets  that 
she  had  left  the  room.  I  did  not  prolong  my  visit. 
On  the  plea  that  I  could  not  wait  further,  and 
promising  to  call  again,  I  managed  to  escape.  If 
you  wish  for  proof,  look  under  the  carpet  beneath 
your  chair." 

Mr.  Hedderick  sprang  up  like  an  eager  school- 
boy. He  seized  the  poker,  inserted  it  under  the 
carpet,  and  with  a  crackling  wrench  prized  up  a 
yard  or  two.  With  trembling  fingers  he  tore  it 
back  still  farther,  and  then  his  face  fell.  He  stood 
up,  a  disappointed  man.  "  There  is  nothing  here," 
he  said  accusingly.  "  This  is  an  anticlimax  to  a 
capital  tale." 

Lionel  did  not  move,  but  his  face  darkened. 
During  the  recital  he  had  felt  a  warm  glow  of  faith 
pervade  his  whole  being,  a  glow  that  was  not  di- 
minished by  the  contemplation  of  Beatrice.  By  the 
time  she  had  finished  he  was  a  devout  adherent, 


112  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

and  now  the  shock  of  disillusion  swung  him  back 
once  more  to  the  certainty  of  doubt.  He  did  not 
speak,  but  his  eyes  sought  hers  in  a  question  he 
could  not  put  into  words.  The  lady  alone  seemed 
unembarrassed.  She  gave  a  regretful  sigh. 

"  There  is  no  anticlimax,"  she  said.  "  Rather 
it  is  the  thickening  of  the  plot.  Of  course  they 
have  been  taken  by  Mizzi.  Has  she  been  there  re- 
cently —  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  he  returned  blankly. 
"  It's  possible,  I  suppose  .  .  .  anyhow,  it's  not  a 
bad  idea  for  ...  for  a  story,  but  .  .  ." 

"  I  see  you  disbelieve  still,"  said  Beatrice  with 
a  calm  disdain.  "  I  had  no  idea  men  could  be  so 
stupid.  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to 
wake  Mrs.  Hedderwick  and  ask  her." 

The  churchwarden  sat  down  suddenly,  as  if  his 
knees  had  given  way.  "  Wake  Mrs.  Hedderwick !  " 
he  repeated  in  a  ghastly  voice:  "wake  my  wife! 
Oh,  no!  It  is  impossible  —  quite  out  of  the  ques- 
tion!" 

"  Not  at  all.  She  will  know  whether  any  one 
has  called  here,  and  in  justice  to  my  veracity  you 
must  ask  her.  I  insist!  Remember  our  freedom 
is  at  stake." 

Mr.  Hedderwick  rose,  pale  but  determined. 


A  TALE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       113 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  politely.  "  Will 
you  please  go  at  once?  I  have  not  the  least  in- 
tention of  prosecuting,  and  I  swear  that  I  believe 
your  story.  Only  will  you  please  go  at  once  ?  " 

Lionel  chuckled,  amused  and  grateful. 

"  This  is  hardly  fair,  sir,"  he  said.  "  You  forget 
that  we  want  information  as  to  where  those  papers 
may  have  gone.  If  your  wife  could  tell  us  whether 
any  one  has  called  and  what  his  or  her  appear- 
ance   " 

"  No,  no !  "  quavered  the  unhappy  Robert.  "  I 
can  not  consent!  You  must  find  out  elsewhere.  I 
can  not  have  my  wife  roused!  I  —  I  would  not 
have  her  here  for  a  thousand  pounds !  " 

"  Indeed,  Robert ! "  said  a  deep  voice  from  the 
door.  The  churchwarden  leaped  round  in  a  trice. 
He  saw  his  wife,  in  the  majesty  of  a  dressing-gown, 
a  poker  in  her  right  hand,  standing  in  the  doorway. 
His  bowels  turned  to  water.  "  Alicia ! "  he 
groaned. 

"Yes,"  she  said  with  a  pleasurable  severity. 
"  What  does  this  mean?  "  Her  eye  roved  austerely 
and  there  was  a  dead  silence.  Robert  was  tempo- 
rarily annihilated,  Beatrice  serenely  impassive, 
Lionel  amusedly  dividing  his  attention  between  the 
two  ladies.  Presently  Mrs,  Hedderwick's  brow 


'ii4  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

cleared,  as  if  a  light  had  dawned  upon  her.  She 
began  to  speak  again  in  a  voice  that  was  almost 
cheerful.  "  I  see !  "  she  said :  "  it  is  a  new  idea, 
Robert.  I  suppose  these  are  some  of  your  friends, 
and  this  is  a  kind  of  breakfast  party.  I  am  very 
sorry  that  you  did  not  give  me  earlier  warning,  or 
I  would  have  had  the  dining-room  ready.  My  hus- 
band," she  said,  turning  confidentially  to  Beatrice, 
"  is  a  man,  and  naturally  does  not  realize  that  bacon 
can  not  be  fried  in  a  moment,  and  that  eggs  will 
not  cook  themselves.  Toast,  again,  needs  a  little 
care;  and  coffee  I  always  say  is  worthless  unless 
one  looks  after  it  one's  self." 

"  Alicia !  "  interposed  the  miserable  Robert,  "  I 
do  wish  you'd  be  reasonable.  For  heaven's 
sake " 

"  Kindly  do  not  swear,  Robert,"  said  his  wife, 
turning  ferociously  on  him.  "  If  I  have  made  a 
mistake,  I  am  sure  it  was  but  natural.  If  this  is 
not  a  breakfast-party,  pray  what  is  it?  A  man 
of  your  age  would  not  indulge  in  suppers  "  —  she 
gave  the  word  an  emphasis  that  insinuated  Cre- 
morne  —  "  so  what  can  I  think  ?  I  hear  an  un- 
usual noise  —  I  come  down-stairs  and  find  my 
husband  hobnobbing  with  a  strange  gentleman  and 


A  TALE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES      115 

his  ...  friend  .  .  .  whom  I  have  met,  but " 

Lionel  rose,  but  Beatrice  was  wiser  and  fore- 
stalled him. 

"  Your  surprise  and  indignation  are  only  natural, 
Mrs.  Hedderwick,"  she  said  coolly,  "  but  they  will 
be  abated  when  you  learn  that  our  untimely  visit  is 
in  connection  with  a  police  affair." 

Her  instinct  was  right.  Curiosity  conquered  the 
churchwarden's  wife,  where  an  appeal  to  pity  or 
kindred  emotions  would  have  failed.  She  relaxed 
her  frigid  attitude  and  said,  "Indeed?" 

"  Yes,"  pursued  Beatrice.  "  I  can  not  tell  you 
all  at  present,  but  be  assured  that  if  it  ever  comes 
into  court  your  evidence  will  be  of  value."  Mrs. 
Hedderwick  smoothed  her  dressing-gown  and  de- 
termined to  appear  in  the  witness-box  in  mauve. 
"  Will  you  just  tell  us  this :  did  any  stranger  call 
here  this  evening?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Hedderwick,  divided  be- 
tween resentment  and  a  thirst  for  knowledge.  "  A 
lady,  or  at  least  a  female,  called  and  inquired  for 
my  husband." 

"A  lady!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Hedderwick.  "This 
promises  well 

His  wife's  eye  compelled  him  again  to  his  seat. 


n6  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  I  think,  Robert,  if  you  evinced  less  interest  in 
such  a  subject  it  would  be  more  seemly.  The  fe- 
male in  question  asked  if  she  might  wait,  as  she 
wished  to  beg  a  subscription  for  an  anti-suffragist 
league.  I  am  in  sympathy  with  such  an  object  and 
allowed  her  to  remain.  In  the  course  of  our  con- 
versation she  referred  to  an  article  on  dress  in  one 
of  the  women's  papers.  I  happened  to  have  the 
journal  and  offered  to  fetch  it;  she  agreed,  think- 
ing that  the  plate  of  a  new  blouse  might  suit  my 
style." 

"So  you  left  her  alone!"  broke  in  Lionel. 

"  For  a  bare  two  minutes.  When  I  returned  she 
was  still  there.  We  discussed  the  blouse  for  a 
while,  and  presently  she  said  that  she  must  go,  but 
would  return  later." 

"  Plagiarist !  "  said  Beatrice  with  a  smile.  "  Did 
you  happen  to  notice  how  she  was  dressed  ?  " 

"  I  never  notice  such  things,"  said  Mrs.  Hedder- 
wick  with  dignity.  "  Dress  is  not  one  of  my 
foibles.  But  after  she  had  gone  I  picked  up  a  hand- 
kerchief which  I  suppose  she  had  dropped.  It  was 
marked " 

"  Wait ! "  said  Mr.  Hedderwick  suddenly. 
"What  is  her  name?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Be- 
atrice. 


A  TALE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       117 

"Whose,  Robert?"  queried  his  wife. 

"  Oh,  bother !  "  he  said,  irritation  lending  him 
courage.  "  Your  maid's." 

"Mizzi  Schmidt." 

"And  the  initials,  Alicia?" 

"M.   S." 

Mr.  Hedderwick,  his  head  full  of  romantic  notions 
of  chivalry,  forgetting  the  urgent  need  of  circum- 
spection, rose.  He  advanced  toward  Beatrice, 
raised  her  hand,  and,  to  the  horror  of  his  wife, 
kissed  it  solemnly.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said ; 
"  there  is  no  anticlimax.  Now  that  you  know 
Mizzi  is  the  thief  you  will  want  to  be  off.  Good-by 
and  good  luck." 

They  took  him  at  his  word  and  rose. 

"  Good-by,"  said  Beatrice  in  the  most  ordinary 
voice.  "  Thank  you  so  much  for  your  help  —  and 
yours,  too,  Mrs.  Hedderwick.  So  sorry  we  had  to 
break  into  your  house.  Good-by.  Now,  Mr. 
Mortimer ! " 

"Good-by,"  said  Lionel;  "thanks  most  awfully. 
I  felt  you  were  a  sportsman  as  soon  as  I  saw  you." 

They  were  in  the  hall  by  this  time,  and  the  mag- 
nanimous churchwarden  was  already  opening  the 
door. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  said.     "I've  had  a  most  in- 


n8  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

teresting  night.  I  wish  you'd  let  me  know  the 
end  of  the  tale  some  day." 

"If  it  is  a  happy  ending,  you  shall,"  said  Be- 
atrice. She  halted  a  moment,  motioned  to  Lionel 
to  pass  out  before  her,  and  then  turned.  "If  you 
see  us  again,  be  careful  never  to  recognize  or  speak 
to  us ;  it  might  mean  danger  —  not  only  to  you,  but 
us." 

He  smiled  but  said  nothing.  Beatrice  and  Li- 
onel moved  away  in  the  light  of  the  early  dawn. 
Mr.  Hedderwick  closed  the  door  gently  and  stood 
deep  in  thought  for  a  moment.  "  What  an  ad- 
venture .  .  .  what  a  splendid  woman  .  .  .  what  a 
jolly  chap!"  his  thoughts  ran.  "How  different 
their  life  from  mine!  Here  am  I,  tied  to  the  same 
holiday  year  after  year  .  .  .  afraid  to  call  my  soul 
my  own  .  .  .  why,  why  should  I  not  have  a  holU 
day  on  my  own  account  —  a  holiday  ...  by  my- 
self for  once.  Something  new  .  .  .  something 
out  of  the  common  .  .  .  ." 

"  Robert ! "  said  a  threatening  voice  from  the 
drawing-room,  and  he  leaped.  "  Come  in!  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you ! " 

The  tone  told  him  what  the  "  something  "  would 
be.  His  thoughts  raced  furiously  during  the  next 
twenty  seconds,  but  he  had  wit  enough  to  answer, 


A  TALE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       119 

"  Yes,  Alicia !  Wait  till  I  have  locked  the  door !  " 
Then  with  a  swift  but  silent  movement  he  slipped 
on  a  greatcoat  and  hat  and  stealthily  opened  the 
door  again.  He  peered  out.  .  .  .  Yes,  there  was 
hope  and  an  object,  for  he  could  see,  some  hun- 
dred and  fifty  yards  away,  the  figures  of  Beatrice 
and  her  escort.  With  a  gasp  Mr.  Hedderwick  mut- 
tered, "  /  will! "  He  pulled  the  door  to  behind  him 
and  set  out  furtively,  but  with  a  resolute  swiftness, 
in  pursuit. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ENTER   TONY    WILD 

TONY  WILD,  whose  address  was  The  Albany, 
and  who  enjoyed  an  unearned  income  of  two 
thousand  a  year,  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  Tivoli 
Music-Hall  at  half  past  ten,  smoking.  His  face, 
which  was  passably  attractive,  had  temporarily  lost 
its  usual  good-humor,  and  he  puffed  his  cigarette 
slowly  as  if  it  was  more  of  a  task  than  a  pleasure. 
This,  indeed,  it  was;  for  he  had  consumed  seven- 
teen since  getting  out  of  bed  at  ten  o'clock  that 
morning,  and  he  smoked  more  from  habit  than 
anything  else.  He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-six 
who  pursued  happiness,  or  rather  distraction,  on 
the  accepted  lines:  dinners,  dances  and  the  stage 
formed  his  daily  round,  but  with  the  zest  of  youth 
or  cynicism  he  constantly  searched  for  new  thrills. 
Experience  was  his  god,  and  it  must  be  confessed 
that  he  had  had  more  than  a  fair  share  of  sensa- 
tions. He  had  been  jilted,  married  (luckily  it 
proved  a  bigamous  union;  as  his  "wife,"  a  Covent 
Garden  chorister,  had  nothing  but  her  prettiness 


120 


121 

to  recommend  her;  and  Tony  had  been  immensely 
relieved  when  her  husband  reappeared  after  serv- 
ing seven  years  at  Portland),  made  a  descent  in  a 
submarine,  gone  up  in  a  balloon,  and  driven  a  car 
in  the  Gordon-Bennett  race.  He  had  flown  in  an 
aeroplane  once  for  the  sake  of  a  new  thrill,  but 
subsequently  determined  that  it  would  be  a  pity 
further  to  risk  two  thousand  a  year.  These  were 
but  a  few  of  his  distractions.  The  only  experience 
he  had  never  tried  was  work. 

On  the  whole,  he  had  enjoyed  himself.  There 
were  times,  of  course,  when  he  felt  that  life  was  a 
little  empty,  a  little  dull;  but  on  such  unfortunate 
occasions  he  made  haste  to  bring  himself  up  to 
the  scratch  by  searching  for  a  fresh  adventure.  His 
most  desperate  expedient  up  to  date  had  been  to  en- 
list, but  the  discipline  and  routine  of  the  barracks 
made  even  ennui  seem  desirable,  and  he  bought 
himself  out  after  twenty-four  hours  of  agony.  This 
evening  he  was  feeling  distinctly  dull,  for  the  day 
had  been  singularly  profitless.  A  solitary  break- 
fast at  eleven  had  been  followed  by  a  perfunctory 
glance  over  The  Daily  Mail.  Even  that  stimulating 
sheet  had  failed  to  rouse  him,  and  an  afternoon 
swim  at  the  Bath  Club  had  been  terminated  by  sheer 
boredom.  Dinner  at  his  club  had  failed  to  produce 


122  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

any  congenial  spirits,  and  in  desperation  he  went  to 
the  Tivoli. 

A  few  of  the  turns  he  enjoyed  in  a  mild  and 
deprecating  fashion,  but  at  ten-thirty  he  found  him- 
self on  the  steps,  bitterly  reflecting  on  the  defects 
of  modern  civilization. 

"London!"  he  thought  moodily,  "a  city  of  six 
million  people,  and  not  a  thing  for  me  to  do.  Shall 
I  go  to  bed  ?  " 

It  seemed  a  confession  of  weakness;  besides  he 
was  not  in  the  least  sleepy.  So  he  discarded  the 
unworthy  thought,  and  set  out  on  an  aimless  ramble 
through  the  streets.  There  is  always  something  to 
look  at  in  London,  something  to  interest,  even 
though  it  be  but  the  policeman  directing  the  traffic ; 
and  Tony  soon  found  his  languor  past  and  good- 
humor  returning.  He  liked  being  among  a  crowd 
of  people,  watching,  speculating,  enjoying.  The 
Strand  was  one  of  his  favorite  haunts,  especially 
at  night  when  the  lamps  were  lit  and  the  theaters 
discharging  their  motley  audiences.  In  Piccadilly 
Circus  at  eleven  o'clock,  Shaftesbury  Avenue,  Ald- 
wych,  or  the  Strand,  a  man  need  never  feel  bored, 
though  he  may  feel  rebellious. 

Tony  walked  slowly  on,  stopping  occasionally 
to  observe  the  people.  He  looked  at  his  watch 


ENTER  TONY  WILD  123 

presently  and  found  that  it  was  past  eleven.  "  Early 
yet,"  he  reflected;  "what's  the  use  of  going  home? 
Shall  I  try  the  club  or  a  longer  walk?  The  Em- 
bankment ...  a  nocturne  of  lamps  and  water 
.  .  .  and  .  .  .  yes!  that  would  be  a  new  game! 
Forward ! " 

He  turned  down  to  the  right  and  soon  found 
himself  by  the  Thames.  Here  he  proceeded  to 
practise  the  new  game  which  had  just  occurred  to 
his  active  brain.  It  was  simple,  if  ghoulish,  for 
he  merely  did  his  best  to  imitate  a  would-be  suicide. 
Turning  up  his  collar  and  setting  his  hat  a  little 
on  the  back  of  his  head,  he  plunged  his  hands  deep 
into  his  pockets  and  assumed  an  expression  of  de- 
spair. Then  he  walked  slowly  along,  at  times 
glancing  at  the  river  and  ostentatiously  avoiding  the 
eyes  of  chance  policemen.  Presently  he  stopped, 
leaned  both  his  elbows  on  the  parapet,  and  stared 
gloomily  at  the  Thames.  His  maneuvers  were 
crowned  with  success,  for  a  constable  soon  ap- 
proached and  told  him  in  a  kindly  tone  to  move 
on.  Tony  replied  in  a  sepulchral  voice,  and  in  a 
few  moments  was  deep  in  conversation  with  his 
preserver.  A  fictitious  tale  of  cards  and  drink  ex- 
ercised the  powers  of  his  imagination  pleasantly 
enough  for  ten  minutes  or  so,  and  when  they  sep- 


124  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

arated  it  was  with  a  mutual  glow  of  satisfaction. 
The  policeman  thought  he  had  saved  a  brother,  Tony 
had  enjoyed  himself  for  a  brief  space.  It  did  not 
occur  to  him  that  critics  might  consider  his  game 
morbid  or  in  bad  taste.  Had  he  been  questioned 
he  would  have  said,  "  No  doubt  you're  right,  but 
I  was  frightfully  bored." 

After  this  episode  he  walked  across  Waterloo 
Bridge  to  enjoy  the  view,  and  then  returned  lei- 
surely to  Piccadilly.  He  was  not  in  the  least 
sleepy,  so  he  determined  to  extend  his  walk  indefi- 
nitely. "  The  great  charm,"  he  reflected,  "  of  being 
a  bachelor  with  plenty  of  money  is  that  one  can 
do  exactly  what  one  likes  without  being  questioned. 
If  I  return  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Petti- 
grew  will  admit  me  without  a  murmur  and  ask  if 
I  want  breakfast.  Now,  if  I  had  a  wife,  it  is 
possible  that  she  would  take  no  interest  in  my  mid- 
night ramble. —  No !  she  would  take  too  much  in- 
terest and  fear  the  worst.  .  .  .  Well,  where  shall 
I  go?  I  feel  in  excellent  trim.  .  .  .  Shall  I  walk 
to  Holders  Green  —  Whitechapel  —  the  Elephant 
and  Castle?  Strange  names  beckon  me.  ...  I 
remember  reading  of  Hackney  Marshes  as  a  little 
boy  .  .  .  shall  I  go  and  see  if  there  are  any 
marshes?  Or  shall  I  make  for  St.  John's  Wood 


ENTER  TONY  WILD  125 

and  see  what  Lord's  looks  like  in  moonlight,  where 

A  ghostly  batsman  plays  to  the  bowling  of  a  ghost, 
And  I  look  through  my  tears  on  a  soundless  clapping 

host, 
As  the  run-stealers  flicker  to  and  fro? 

Yes ;  let's  try  Lord's !  "    . 

We  need  not  follow  Tony  in  his  walk.  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  at  four  o'clock  he  found  him- 
self, still  wakeful,  in  Covent  Garden,  watching  the 
market-men  at  work.  After  enjoying  the  sight  he 
wandered  idly  up  to  Oxford  Street,  and  presently 
the  Euston  Road.  He  walked  down  this  till  he 
reached  Euston  railway  station,  and  here  he  paused 
to  enjoy  the  freshness  of  the  morning  and  the  quiet 
of  the  streets.  "  Gad !  "  he  thought,  "  what  a  shame 
to  lie  in  bed  till  ten  o'clock.  Why  haven't  I  tried 
this  jape  sooner?  This  is  the  sort  of  time  when 
one  thinks  of  the  country  and  hates  London.  If 
only  there  was  a  train  here  I'd  go  away  for  a 
day  or  two  and  try  it."  An  idea  struck  him  and 
he  smiled.  "  Well,  here  is  a  station.  It  might  be 
amusing  to  go  and  see  if  there  is  a  train  starting  for 
anywhere.  I  think  I  will.  I'll  make  a  vow  to  take 
a  ticket  by  the  first  train  available  and  get  out 
wherever  the  country  looks  interesting.  That  at 
any  rate  will  be  something  new." 


126  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

He  entered  Euston  station  at  a  quarter  to  five. 
A  sleepy  ticket-clerk  told  him  that  the  first  train 
went  at  five-seven,  and  asked  whither  he  meant  to 
travel.  "  Oh,  give  me  a  ticket  that  costs  five  shill- 
ings," said  Tony :  "  I  don't  much  care.  No,  dear 
fellow,  I'm  not  mad,  and  I've  not  been  drinking. 
A  five-bob  ticket,  please." 

The  clerk  complied  with  an  ill-used  air.  Tony 
received  his  ticket  and  went  to  find  the  train.  As 
he  laid  his  hand  on  the  door  of  a  first-class  com- 
partment it  occurred  to  him  to  look  at  the  ticket. 
It  was  a  third-class.  Instead  of  being  annoyed, 
Tony  laughed.  "  A  night  of  thrills !  "  he  mur- 
mured :  "  I  haven't  traveled  third  for  years.  Is 
there  any  chance  of  my  having  fellow  travelers? 
I  should  doubt  it." 

There  were  some  ten  minutes  before  the  train 
was  due  to  start,  and  Tony  occupied  the  time  in 
looking  out  of  the  window.  There  was  not  much 
to  engage  his  attention,  save  a  few  porters  hand- 
ling newspapers  and  other  parcels,  but  presently 
a  man  appeared  making  for  the  train.  Tony 
glanced  at  him  with  a  languid  curiosity.  The  new- 
comer was  dressed  in  a  correct  morning  suit  and 
silk  hat.  He  also  carried  gloves  and  a  stick.  But 
though  he  looked  like  a  gentleman  and  carried  him- 


ENTER  TONY  WILD  127 

self  with  an  air,  Tony's  eye  detected  signs  of 
poverty.  The  coat  was  shiny,  and  the  hat,  though 
carefully  brushed,  had  little  luster.  "  What  the 
deuce  is  he  doing  here  at  this  time,  and  in  such 
clothes  ? "  thought  Tony.  Then  he  burst  into  a 
noiseless  laugh.  "  The  pot  and  kettle ! "  he  re- 
flected, chuckling :  "  I  had  forgotten  that  I  am  still 
in  evening  dress !  " 

He  sank  back  in  the  seat  to  laugh  at  himself 
more  thoroughly,  and  the  man  in  the  silk  hat  passed 
by  the  window.  He  made  his  way  into  the  next 
compartment,  and  unfortunately  there  was  no  cor- 
ridor. Tony  was  debating  whether  or  not  it  was 
worth  while  to  get  out  and  join  the  stranger  on  the 
off  chance  of  learning  something  new,  when  the 
whistle  went.  But  before  the  train  had  begun  to 
move,  a  face  appeared  at  the  opposite  window.  A 
man  was  climbing  up  the  footboard  from  the  line. 
The  next  moment  the  door  was  opened,  the  man 
entered,  shut  the  door  behind  him  and  sat  down. 
He  was  a  man  of  some  fifty  years,  dressed  rather 
oddly.  His  bowler  hat  and  overcoat  were  good, 
but  he  wore  no  collar.  Tony  looked  at  him  con- 
tentedly; after  all,  this  walk  was  producing  ex- 
periences. 

"  Good  morning,"  he  said  mildly :  "  do  you  usually 


128  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

enter  a  train  on  the  off  side?  I  ask  merely  from 
vulgar  curiosity." 

The  man  laughed,  panting  a  little  from  his  ex- 
ertions. He  did  not  look  like  a  criminal;  indeed 
he  appeared  distinctly  meek.  He  seemed  happy, 
too. 

"No,"  he  replied.  "This  is  the  first  time  in 
my  life.  I  am  going  on  a  holiday.  May  I  in  re- 
turn ask  you  if  you  usually  travel  in  evening  dress 
in  the  morning?  " 

Tony  smiled. 

"No;  I  too  am  going  on  a  holiday." 

"To  Shereling?"  asked  the  man  amiably. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"You  don't  know." 

"No;  I  was  dull.  So  I  took  the  five-shilling 
ticket  and  the  first  train.  I  have  no  notion  where 
I  shall  get  out." 

"  What  a  splendid  idea !  "  cried  the  other  enthusi- 
astically, much  to  Tony's  astonishment.  "  Most  of 
us  are  so  bound  by  convention  that  we  plot  and 
plan  for  weeks:  often  we  even  go  where  we  don't 
want  to." 

"Why?" 

The  other  hesitated. 

"  Domestic    pressure,"    he    said    with    a    smile. 


ENTER  TONY  WILD  129 

"  You  seem  an  understanding  sort  of  chap,  so  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that.  This  year  —  last 
night,  to  be  candid  —  I  resolved  to  burst  my 
shackles  for  a  time.  Certain  .  .  .  events  .  .  . 
hastened  my  decision.  I  am  going  to  Shereling.  I 
left  in  rather  a  hurry  —  you  see  I  have  no  collar. 
I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  wait  till  we  get  to  Shere- 
ling now  before  I  can  buy  one." 

"  There's  no  hosiery  department  on  the  train," 
said  Tony :  "  railway  companies  are  very  unimagi- 
native. If  there  were,  I'd  buy  a  decent  suit  to 
travel  in.  Do  tell  me  why  you  came  in  in  that  un- 
conventional way.'' 

"  Sorry,"  said  the  man,  "  but  I  can't  do  that. 
It's  all  right,  you  know :  I  have  a  ticket." 

"Of  course,"  agreed  Tony  politely,  and  relapsed 
into  musing.  Here  was  a  perfect  windfall  with 
enormous  possibilities.  Decidedly  he  must  not  lose 
sight  of  his  new  companion;  he  would  get  out  at 
Shereling,  too.  Tony  studied  him  from  half-shut 
eyes:  he  looked  a  decent  little  chap  —  almost  jolly 
.  .  .  rather  like  a  schoolboy  off  for  a  holiday,  ex- 
pecting some  excellent  pleasure  and  glorying  in  the 
prospect.  Also,  he  was  mysterious  and  secretive, 
though  to  outward  appearance  he  was  a  prosperous 
business  man  in  a  small  way  —  a  head  clerk  or 


130  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

under-manager  perhaps.  There  was  something  in 
his  face,  too,  an  innocent  zest,  that  appealed  to  the 
blase  young  man.  "  Yes,  old  cock,"  thought  Tony, 
"  I  must  freeze  on  to  you,  whether  you  like  it  or 
not." 

After  a  silence  the  old  cock  began  to  crow,  and 
soon  there  was  a  brisk  conversation  in  progress. 
They  talked  chiefly  of  trivial  things,  but  held  each 
other's  interest  nevertheless.  Tony's  outlook  and 
the  newcomer's  were  wide  asunder,  as  also  were 
their  experiences.  It  was  the  elder  man  who  asked 
most  of  the  questions,  the  younger  who  was  re- 
sponsible for  the  answers.  But  they  found  a  bond 
of  union  in  a  Pepysian  interest  in  the  novel  and 
unusual,  though  each  approached  it  from  a  dif- 
ferent standpoint.  Tony  was  a  master  of  external 
knowledge  and  sought  for  something  fresh;  the 
other,  a  babe,  welcomed  the  stalest  facts  as  dis- 
coveries from  a  new  world. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said,  and  with  a  sigh,  "  that  we 
were  going  to  travel  together  for  a  while."  Tony's 
heart  leaped.  "  You  are  an  interesting  young  man 
.  .  .  but  no !  that  is  impossible  —  it  would  never 
do." 

Tony  did  not  reply.  He  felt  sure  that  the  fish 
•was  almost  hooked,  but  he  did  not  wish  to  spoil 


ENTER  TONY  WILD  131 

things  by  seeming  too  eager.  But  he  resolved  that 
ere  the  journey  came  to  an  end  he  would  land  his 
fish  and  spend  a  few  days  in  his  company.  He  did 
not  think  there  would  be  a  slackening  of  the  interest : 
if  there  were,  why,  he  could  easily  go  back  to 
town.  Meanwhile 

The  train  pulled  up. 

"  Hallo !  "  said  the  elderly  man.  "  This  train  is 
billed  as  a  non-stop  to  Shereling.  Why  on 
earth " 

He  leaned  out  of  the  window  and  beckoned  the 
guard. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  he  asked. 

"  The  strike,"  the  guard  answered.  "  You  see, 
sir,  there  are  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  men  on  strike 
here  just  now,  and  it  seems  they've  got  a  little  out 
of  'and." 

"  But  what,"  asked  Tony's  companion,  effectu- 
ally filling  the  window, — "  what  has  that  to  do 
with  the  trains?  Why " 

"  You  see,  sir,"  continued  the  guard  with  an 
apologetic  air,  "  they've  got  a  bit  out  of  'and.  I 
don't  know  the  rights  of  it  —  they  do  say  they're 
underpaid,  though  the  employers  say  they  spend 
their  wages  on  whippet-racing.  Anyway,  they're 
out " 


132  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  But  the  railway,  man.     What " 

The  guard  coughed. 

"  Some  of  them's  a  bit  'asty,  sir,  likewise  un- 
controllable. It  seems  that  they  broke  into  the  pub- 
lics about  midnight  and  'ave  been  making  a  night 
of  it,  so  to  speak.  They've  sent  for  the  soldiers, 
but  they  'aven't  arrived  yet.  And  they've  tore  up 
some  of  the  track.  The  breakdown  gang  is  re- 
pairing it,  but  it  will  be  an  hour  or  so  before  we 
can  get  on." 

"D'you  hear  that?" 

"  Rather,"  said  Tony,  getting  up.  "  Let's  go  and 
have  a  look.  I've  never  seen  a  raging  mob." 

"  Better  not,  sir,"  advised  the  guard.  ' '  The 
town's  not  safe." 

"  They  may  listen  to  me,"  said  Tony  with  simple 
grandeur.  He  turned  to  his  companion.  "  Do  you 
feel  like  playing  with  fire  ?  " 

The  little  man's  eyes  sparkled  and  he  breathed 
quickly.  He  hesitated  a  moment  with  natural  cau- 
tion. Then 

"  Yes,"  he  said  briefly.  "  Dash  it !  I  —  I  feel  as 
if  I  were  beginning  to  live ! " 

Tony  laughed  and  opened  the  door.  The  guard 
sighed. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  don't  say  I  didn't 


ENTER  TONY  WILD  133 

%i 

warn  you.  Anyhow,  I'd  advise  you  to  leave  your 
money  behind  and  your  watches,  too." 

"  The  man's  a  perfect  Solon,"  said  Tony,  feel- 
ing in  his  trousers  pocket.  "  Here,  guard,  seven 
pounds  three  .  .  .  and  a  watch.  If  I  perish,  you 
may  keep  them,  but  remember  that  the  watch  needs 
winding  night  and  morning." 

The  guard  gazed  dumbly  at  the  evening  dress. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  other  man,  "  You  anything, 
sir?" 

"N  —  nothing  that  matters,"  was  the  confused 
reply.  "  Come  on !  let's  make  a  move !  " 

"  Broke!  "  thought  Tony.  "  But  he  hasn't  tried 
to  touch  me  yet.  What  a  day  out !  " 


CHAPTER  X 

HOW   TO  DRESS   ON    NOTHING   A   YEAR 

THE  two  men  left  the  station  and  began  to  walk 
sharply  toward  the  town,  which  was  close  at 
hand.  The  first  street  they  entered  was  deserted, 
but  evidence  of  the  strike  lay  open  to  the  shamed 
sky.  Lamps,  it  is  true,  still  stood  erect,  but  their 
glass  was  shattered;  missiles  and  rubbish  littered 
the  roadway,  shop-windows  had  not  a  pane  left 
whole,  and  here  and  there  makeshift  screens  of 
boards  replaced  or  protected  the  windows.  It  was 
a  scene  or  ruin,  complete  and  piteous.  The  most 
curious  feature  was  that  not  a  soul  was  in  the  street : 
everything  was  still  and  lonely. 

In  the  next  street  a  similar  spectacle  met  them 
—  ruin  and  solitude.  In  a  third,  the  same.  In  a 
fourth,  the  same.  It  was  as  if  a  battle  had  taken 
place,  or  rather  as  if  the  town  had  been  sacked  and 
cleared  by  an  invading  army,  which  had  passed 
on  like  a  destroying  angel,  leaving  signs  of  its 
progress,  and  signs  alone. 

"This  is  deuced  odd,"  was  Tony's  comment  — 

134 


NOTHING  A  YEAR  135 

"deuced  odd.  The  ruin  does  not  surprise,  for 
everything  is  possible  in  this  age  of  Socialism.  But 
is  the  spirit  of  curiosity  dead?  If  so,  that  will  be 
*  the  end  of  all  things.'  Surely  everybody  can  not 
be  murdered  or  afraid  to  come  out.  Surely  we  shall 
light  upon  at  least  one  brand  from  the  burning  — 
some  pathetic,  interesting,  interested  spectator.  If 
it  were  but  a  man  drunk  in  the  gutter  ..." 

"  Yes,  it's  rum,"  agreed  his  companion.  "  But 
listen!  I  think  I  hear  a  noise  over  there  to  the 
right.  Shall  we  go  and  see  ?  " 

Tony  stopped,  friendliness  in  his  heart. 

"  I  think  you're  right,"  he  said.  "  But  look  here ! 
Judging  by  what  we've  seen,  these  chaps  won't 
stick  at  trifles.  Personally  I  don't  much  care  what 
happens,  so  long  as  I  can  get  interested;  but  you're 
different  —  you're  an  older  man.  Hadn't  you  bet- 
ter try  the  station  ?  " 

The  little  man  blushed. 

"  Damn  it,  sir !  "  he  began,  and  then  stopped. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon  —  I  haven't  sworn  these  twenty 
years,  but  I  feel  somehow  different  to-day.  What 
I  mean  is  that  I'm  not  a  graybeard  yet,  and  if 
you  can  be  interested,  I  can.  Come  on !  " 

"  All  right,"  said  Tony,  warming  to  him.     "  Aw- 


136  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

fully  sorry  I  said  that.  I  say,  you  are  a  sports- 
man   " 

The  other  blushed  again,  but  this  time  with  pleas- 
ure. "  Thank  you.  That  is  the  second  time  I 
have  been  called  a  sportsman  within  twenty-four 

hours.  I  ...  I  rather  like  it,  Mr. .  By  the 

way,  have  you  any  objection  to  telling  me  your 
name  ? " 

"  Not  a  bit,  if  you'll  tell  me  yours." 

The  little  man  considered  a  moment,  and 
then 

"  My  name  is  Hedderwick,"  he  said  frankly. 
"  I  feel  I  can  trust  you  to  keep  your  own  counsel." 

"  Of  course.     Mine  is  Tony  Wild." 

They  had  been  walking  quickly  in  the  direction 
of  the  noise,  which  every  minute  became  clearer. 
At  last,  guided  by  their  ears,  they  entered  a  street 
where  their  curiosity  was  satisfied.  At  the  farther 
end  was  a  seething  crowed  of  men,  a  few  women, 
and  a  rabble  of  gutter  children.  They  were  the 
strikers,  or  some  of  them,  all  excited  and  not  a 
few  drunk.  As  the  guard  had  said,  they  were  evi- 
dently somewhat  out  of  hand,  and  the  looting  of 
the  public-houses  had  not  tended  to  assuage  their 
wrath.  Fired  by  their  alleged  grievances,  liquor, 
eloquence  and  the  electricity  of  a  mob,  they  had 


NOTHING  A  YEAR  137 

spent  the  last  few  hours  in  wrecking  the  town. 
The  police  had  done  all  that  was  possible  to  stem 
the  attack  and  vindicate  law  and  order,  but  they 
were  hopelessly  outnumbered.  Reinforcements 
and  soldiers  had  been  telegraphed  for,  and  were  even 
now  marching,  but  for  the  time  being  the  local 
forces  had  retired  to  talk  over  the  return  match 
and  exchange  of  lint  and  arnica.  The  strikers  were 
in  possession  and  thoroughly  enjoying  themselves. 

Tony,  whispering  to  his  companion,  "  Keep  close 
and  don't  get  into  arguments :  pretend  to  be  a  labor 
leader,  if  you  like!  "  pushed  his  way  slowly  through 
the  crowd.  Robert,  his  heart  bumping  with  fear, 
interest  and  excitement,  followed  him;  he  was 
afraid,  but  not  too  afraid,  and  he  felt  that  his  holi- 
day was  proving  a  success.  When  they  reached  the 
center  of  interest,  after  a  tardy  but  good-humored 
progress,  they  were  rewarded  with  a  sight  neither 
had  hoped  for. 

The  thickest  of  the  crowd  was  swaying  round  a 
large  shop.  It  was  termed  the  emporium,  and  al- 
most merited  the  title.  The  happy  anarchs  had 
smashed  every  atom  of  the  plate-glass,  careless  of 
the  rate-payers,  and  then  had  proceeded  to  abolish 
such  of  the  fittings  as  offended  their  esthetic  sense. 
In  the  center  of  the  window-space,  standing  on  a 


138  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

chair,  was  a  cheerful  striker,  conducting  a  kind  of 
auction.  More  strictly,  it  was  a  charitable  distri- 
bution, for  no  one  made  any  effort  to  pay  for  the 
goods  received.  The  shop  was  a  miniature  White- 
ley's,  embracing  everything  from  a  perambulator  to 
a  parachute,  and  it  was  odd  to  watch  the  incongruity 
of  some  of  the  articles  distributed.  One  man,  for 
example,  was  given  a  child's  feeding-bottle,  and  ac- 
cepted it  without  demur;  with  a  bellow  of  approval 
he  seized  it  by  the  rubber  tube  and  whirled  it  round, 
shouting,  till  the  tube  broke  and  the  bottle  flew 
off  at  a  tangent.  Another  received  half  a  pianola 
—  the  whole  was  too  much  for  him  to  carry,  and 
kindly  friends  helped  him  to  bisect  it  with  clubs 
and  bars.  A  third,  bemused  with  beer,  staggered 
off  with  a  dozen  volumes  of  Comparative  Religion, 
murmuring  brokenly.  "  Suthin'  f'r  the  kids  to 
read,"  and  dropping  at  intervals  his  burden  in  the 
mud.  It  was  a  pleasant  illustration  of  good  feeling 
and  unselfishness. 

A  few  moments  after  Tony  and  Robert  had  pene- 
trated to  the  front,  ready-made  clothing  was  being 
distributed  with  a  lavish  hand.  The  auctioneer 
would  seize  a  suit,  or  a  part  of  a  suit,  from  the 
nearest  peg,  and  with  humorous  or  profane  com- 
ments throw  it  to  one  of  the  crowd.  "  Who  wants 


NOTHING  A  YEAR  139 

a  waistcoat?"  he  was  crying  presently;  "a  regular 
fancy  article,  double-wove,  stamped  on  every  bleed- 
ing yard !  Just  the  thing  to  fetch  the  girls !  Just  the 
thing  to  wear  of  a  Sunday!  and  when  the  bloom's 
orf  you  can  use  it  as  an  'earth-rug  or  a  tea-cozy! 
Just  the  thing  —  here  y'are !  "  and  he  flung  it  to  an 
outstretched  hand. 

"  Now's  our  chance  if  we  want  a  change!  "  whis- 
pered Robert.  He  meant  it  as  a  joke,  and  trembled 
as  he  saw  Tony's  face  light  up  with  amusement 
"  Don't  be  a  fool !  "  he  whispered  at  once.  "  These 
chaps  are  simply  mad " 

"  Could  you  oblige  me  with  a  suit  ?  "  asked  Tony 
suavely,  but  in  the  clearest  tones.  The  crowd 
turned  at  the  university  accent.  Hitherto  they  had 
been  too  busy  to  notice  the  new  arrival,  but  as  they 
observed  the  opera  hat,  the  smart  broadcloth  and 
starched  linen,  they  recognized  the  presence  of  one 
of  the  upper  classes  and  looked  black.  A  murmur 
arose,  growing  in  strength  and  hostility,  and  a  voice 
suggested  with  painful  clarity  the  dissection  of  his 
internal  organs. 

Tony  took  in  the  situation:  another  minute,  and 
grumbling  threats  might  be  exchanged  for  action 
of  an  unpleasant  kind;  there  was  not  a  moment  to 
lose.  "  Let  me  show  you  a  thing,  comrades ! "  he 


140  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

said  brightly;  and  before  the  smoldering  wrath 
could  burst  into  flame  he  took  off  his  hat  and  smote 
it.  The  fabric  collapsed  with  a  ridiculous  klop, 
and  the  crowd,  taken  by  surprise  and  ready  to 
laugh  at  the  mere  trifle,  roared.  Tony  spun  it  into 
the  air  with  a  careless  grace,  far  over  the  heads  of 
the  throng;  and  as  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  its  traject- 
ory he  pushed  his  way  forward.  "  A  moment, 
please !  "  he  urged,  shouldering  on  toward  the  shop. 
"  By  your  leave,  sir !  Excuse  me,  friend !  Beg 
pardon,  brother !  "  And  behold !  he  was  standing 
beside  the  auctioneer. 

The  latter  glared  his  enmity,  refusing  to  budge, 
but  Tony  took  no  heed.  All  trace  of  boredom  gone, 
his  eyes  aglow  with  eagerness,  he  gesticulated  for 
silence.  The  strikers,  not  wholly  recovered  from 
their  surprise,  postponed,  at  least  for  the  time  being, 
the  suggested  vivisection,  and  waited  for  Tony  to 
justify  himself.  He  was  a  fluent  speaker,  and  lost 
no  time  in  beginning. 

"  Comrades ! "  he  cried,  "  you  see  me  as  I  am ! 
I  am  in  the  unhappy  position  of  being  without  a 
hat  and  in  evening  dress.  Unlooked-for  events  put 
me  in  a  train  this  morning,  and  it  was  not  until  the 
train  had  started  that  I  realized  my  absurd  costume. 
What  was  I  to  do?  Chance  settled  the  question. 


NOTHING  A  YEAR  141 

Chance  brought  me  here  into  your  delightful  neigh- 
borhood, and  what  do  I  find?  A  good  fairy,  as  it 
were,  distributing  clothes  for  nothing !  "  At  this 

point   a    voice    called    for    "  Cheers    for    the 

fairy !  "  which  were  heartily  given.  The  fairy,  un- 
used to  badinage,  retired  from  the  rostrum,  and 
Tony  was  quick  to  jump  up.  "  You  see,  comrades, 
that  I  got  a  rise:  may  you  soon  get  the  same  — 
may  you  get  what  you  are  asking  for !  "  A  tornado 
of  cheers  covered  his  corollary,  "  viz.,  six  months 
hard,"  uttered  in  an  undertone.  Feeling  was  shift- 
ing a  little  in  his  favor  now,  and  he  swept  on. 
"  Here,  I  thought,  is  my  opportunity !  I  am  an  out- 
cast, dressed  in  the  ridiculous  garb  civilization  im- 
poses on  her  sons  —  the  pampered  scions  of  the 
aristocracy!  You  have  seen  me  discard  my  al- 
legiance to  the  dukes:  the  crushing  of  the  hat  was 
symbolical.  I  hate  the  petty  trammels  of  the  curled 
and  scented  darlings  of  the  rich!  If  you  wish  — 
if  you  will  allow  me  to  annex  one  of  the  admirable 
and  useful  suits  of  reach-me-downs  —  nine  and 
elevenpence  ha'penny  off  the  peg  —  I  will  discard 
the  remnants  of  an  obsolete  feudalism.  My  coat 

shall  go !     My  waistcoat !     Even  my " 

A  prude  cried  "  Shame!  "     Tony  seized  upon  the 
word  liked  a  practised  ranter. 


142  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Yes ! "  he  cried  warmly,  "  it  is  a  shame  that 
I  should  be  forced  to  wear  these  loathsome  gar- 
ments when  self-respect  urges  me  to  assume  a  man- 
lier garb.  May  I  take  it  that  I  have  your  assent? 
I  put  it  to  the  meeting  that  I  forthwith  st  —  take 
what  I  want."  He  paused  for  breath,  but  they  were 
dumb  before  this  extraordinary  creature.  He  hur- 
ried on.  "  Carried  unanimously.  Thank  you,  com- 
rades, for  this  mark  of  appreciation  and  esteem. 
Behold ! "  He  tore  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat  and 
trod  upon  them.  "  See  how  I  trample  the  badge 
of  servitude !  Observe ! "  He  discarded  his 
nether  apparel,  knowing  that  he  could  not  stick  at 
trifles:  the  crowd's  mood  might  turn  if  he  gave  it 
time.  Luckily,  his  audacity  was  rewarded,  for  the 
audience  roared  with  brutal  joy  at  Tony's  remark- 
able appearance.  Without  hesitation  he  snatched 
a  suit  from  several  that  hung  at  hand,  selecting  the 
quietest  he  could  see,  talking  furiously  as  he  put 
it  on.  "And  what  now?  See!  a  transformation! 
A  man  clothed  in  sensible  dress!  Hurrah  for  the 
social  revolution!  Hurrah  for  communizing  the 
means  of  production  and  distribution  —  especially 
distribution!  And  all  the  rest  of  the  dear  old  clap- 
trap," he  added  sotto  voce  as  he  leaped  nimbly  down. 
In  the  thunderous  applause  that  followed  the  im- 


NOTHING  A  YEAR  143 

passioned  harangue  Tony  slipped  his  arms  through 
Mr.  Hedderwick's,  and  they  were  allowed  to  make 
good  their  escape.  They  walked  in  silence  till  they 
were  clear  of  the  crowd,  and  then  Robert  paused. 

"  Mr.  Wild,  you  were  simply  splendid !  "  he  said 
in  awestruck  tones.  "  You're  one  of  the  best  chaps 
I've  ever  met." 

Tony  chuckled,  tired  but  pleased. 

"Not  a  bad  effort,  was  it?  But,  by  jove!  I  was 
in  a  funk  half  the  time." 

"  So  was  I,"  confessed  Robert.  "  I  began  to 
think  I  might  have  to  use  this."  He  pulled  a 
revolver  out  of  his  pocket  and  showed  it.  Tony 
crowed  with  pure  joy. 

"  Good  lord,  man !  You've  got  a  pistol!  How 
perfectly  splendid!  What  on  earth  do  you  carry 
a  pistol  for  ?  Do  tell  me  —  please!  " 

Mr.  Hedderwick  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  min- 
ute, evidently  weighing  some  problem.  Presently 
he  gave  a  gulp  of  decision. 

"Mr.  Wild,"  he  said,  "I  haven't  known  you 
very  long,  but  I  seem  to  have  known  you  for 
years.  What  I've  seen  has  interested  me  —  im- 
pressed me,  and  I  like  you.  You  know  a  little  about 
me,  that  I'm  off  for  a  holiday  on  unusual  lines,  but 
unless  you  agree  to  my  proposal  I  shan't  tell  you  any 


144  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

more.  You,  it  appears,  are  a  free  agent,  young, 
with  nothing  to  do.  I  think  \ve  might  enjoy  our- 
selves much  more  together  than  apart.  In  any  case, 
if  we  found  it  didn't  suit  we  could  separate.  If  you 
feel  like  adventuring  for  a  few  days  I  think  there 
may  be  a  little  fun.  I  can't  promise  it,  but  I  think 
so.  If  you  agree,  I'll  tell  you  the  rest  when  we 
get  to  The  Happy  Heart." 

"  One  question,"  said  Tony,  "  and  don't  be  of- 
fended. Do  you  want  any  money?" 

Mr.  Hedderwick  thought  for  a  moment  and 
frowned.  Then  he  smiled. 

"  I  have  two  and  eightpence  in  my  pocket,"  he 
said  frankly.  "  I  came  out  in  a  hurry.  I  could 
get  more  if  I  wanted,  but  I  don't  mean  to  try,  for 
I  have  no  wish  to  be  traced  yet.  I'm  not  a  cadger 
or  a  confidence-trickster.  If  you  care  to  finance 
me  till  we  return,  so  much  the  better  for  me.  If 
not,  well,  I'll  do  without  and  rough  it  somehow.  I 
don't  mean  to  miss  my  holiday." 

Tony  smiled.  This  Hedderwick  seemed  an  ad- 
mirable fellow. 

"What  and  where  is  The  Happy  Heart?"  he 
asked. 

"  An  inn  at  Shereling  where  I  mean  to  stay." 


NOTHING  A  YEAR  145 

"  Forward,  then,  to  The  Happy  Heart.  I  wish 
I'd  bagged  some  boots,  too.  These  pumps  are  sim- 
ply cruel." 

They  set  out  once  more  toward  the  station. 


CHAPTER  XI 

AT    THE    HAPPY    HEART 

THE  landlord  of  The  Happy  Heart  stood  lean- 
ing against  his  door-post,  smoking  a  church- 
warden. He  was  enjoying  his  tobacco  and  the 
summer  morning,  and  occasionally  directing  a  bovine 
thought  to  the  identity  of  the  solitary  guest  at  pres- 
ent lying  in  bed  up-stairs.  The  said  guest  had  ar- 
rived two  days  before  with  a  view  to  golf,  for  the 
Shereling  links  were  well  known.  The  Happy 
Heart  was  rarely  without  a  golf  enthusiast,  since 
it  was  the  only  inn  in  Shereling,  the  local  squire 
(at  present  yachting)  owning  most  of  the  land  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  refusing  to  let  "  his  "  village 
become  an  abiding-place  for  tourists.  Wherefore 
the  neighboring  town  of  Dallingham,  six  miles  dis- 
tant, reaped  a  golden  harvest,  and  its  hotels  were 
out  of  all  proportion  to  its  population. 

The  guest  up-stairs,  to  return  to  the  landlord's 
vaguely  moving  thoughts,  was  a  man  well  over 
seventy,  but  active  for  his  age.  An  olive  complexion 

hinted  that  he  was  no  Briton,  but  the  testimony  of 

146 


AT  THE  HAPPY  HEART  147 

the  green-keepers  went  to  prove  that  his  English 
was  "  floont " ;  and  of  the  magnitude  of  his  tips  the 
odd- job  man  of  the  The  Happy  Heart  could  not 
say  enough.  A  man  of  seventy  may  be  excused  for 
showing  reserve  or  desiring  quiet,  and  the  landlord 
did  not  think  it  curious  that  the  visitor  divided  his 
time  between  the  links  and  his  bedroom:  the  man 
was  certainly  a  gentleman,  perhaps  an  aristocrat,  and 
there  was  no  doubt  that  his  money  was  good.  The 
only  thing  that  bothered  the  landlord  was  —  why 
had  he  brought  no  servant?  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  that  solitude  to  the  great  may  be  worth  more 
than  the  benignities  of  a  valet. 

The  landlord  shaded  his  eyes  with  a  browned 
hand  and  looked  down  the  road.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  be  seen.  With  an  effort  that  was  mental  as 
well  as  physical  he  turned  himself  upon  the  axis  of 
the  door-post  and  blinked  in  the  other  direction. 
Here  the  figure  of  a  man  rewarded  him,  walking 
steadily  but  without  hurry  toward  the  inn.  "  One 
of  they  golfing  chaps  from  the  station,"  was  the 
landlord's  first  thought ;  "  he  must  be  mortal  keen 
to  come  so  early."  His  mild  surprise  changed  to 
blank  amazement  as  the  stranger  drew  near.  "  Top 
hat,  gloves,  et  setterer,"  he  muttered.  "  A  swell 
an'  all!  What's  he  doing  of  here?"  He  was  still 


148  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ruminating  when  the  stranger  halted,  surveyed  the 
tavern  sign,  and  entered.  The  landlord  followed 
him  into  the  parlor. 

"  A  quart  of  beer,  please,"  said  Lionel,  sitting 
down  with  relish  on  the  nearest  bench.  The  land- 
lord, his  surprise  in  no  way  lessened  by  the  order, 
went  and  drew  the  beer.  He  placed  it  before  his 
customer,  and  then  said,  "  You're  early  astir,  sir." 

"Ten  o'clock  early?"  said  Lionel.  "I  thought 
that  country  people  called  that  late." 

"  Not  if  you  come  by  train,  sir,  as  I  suppose  you 
did.  A  friend  o'  mine  —  Jeggs  the  farmer  • —  drove 
by  here  twenty  minutes  agone.  He  said  that  the 
first  train,  the  five  o'clock,  had  only  just  come  in, 
being  delayed  by  the  strikers.  I  suppose  you  came 
by  that?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Lionel,  "  I  did." 

"And  did  you  see  anything  of  the  strike,  sir?" 

"  No,"  said  Lionel ;  "  I  stayed  in  the  train  —  in 
fact,  I  slept  all  the  way,  being  tired." 

The  landlord,  seeing  that  the  other  was  in  no 
communicative  mood,  withdrew,  after  begging  him 
to  ring  the  bell  if  he  wanted  further  refreshment. 
Lionel,  left  to  the  kindly  solitude  of  the  parlor,  put 
up  his  legs  on  the  bench  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  took 
a  draught  of  the  beer,  and  lighted  a  pipe. 


AT  THE  HAPPY  HEART  149 

He  was  very  tired,  in  spite  of  the  sleep  he  had 
spoken  of.  With  the  exception  of  that  brief  and 
disturbed  period  in  the  train  he  had  not  slept  for 
some  twenty-six  hours,  and  in  addition,  he  had 
been  through  sundry  diverting  experiences.  The 
successful  burglary  had  been  a  strain,  and  after  he 
and  Beatrice  had  got  back  to  the  flat  they  had  spent 
the  next  three  hours  in  discussing  and  planning. 
They  had  searched  every  room,  nook  and  cranny 
for  some  trace  of  Mizzi,  some  clew  as  to  where  she 
might  have  flown.  Of  course  it  was  useless:  not 
a  scrap  of  paper  —  not  a  single  compromising  doc- 
ument rewarded  their  efforts.  Only  some  black- 
ened ashes  in  the  bedroom  grate  hinted  at  possibilities. 
She  had  left  nearly  all  her  clothes  and  personal  be- 
longings, and  her  boxes  were  unlocked  as  if  to 
invite  inspection.  She  had  simply  disappeared  — 
gone,  like  one  in  a  melodrama,  "  out  into  the  night." 

It  was  of  the  utmost  importance  to  trace  her, 
but  what  could  be  done?  It  was  obvious  that  de- 
tectives should  not  be  employed,  for  a  hint  of  offi- 
cial interference  might  mean  the  death  of  Lukos. 
Beatrice  and  Lionel  must  do  their  own  detection, 
and  they  spent  their  brains  on  the  problem,  appar- 
ently so  hopeless. 

Even  the  cause  of  Mizzi's  disloyalty  was  anything 


150  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

but  clear.  It  might  be  that  she  was  in  the  pay  of 
the  sultan,  or  it  might  be  that  she  wished  to  be 
revenged.  But  why  revenge?  Beatrice,  with  a 
twinkle  that  made  Lionel  feel  qualms  of  conscience, 
suggested  jealousy;  but  the  suggestion  was  thrown 
out  in  such  an  airy  spirit  that  he  felt  she  did  not 
really  believe  in  it.  He  himself  preferred  to  believe, 
and  did  believe,  that  the  more  sensational  hypothe- 
sis should  be  adopted.  She  must  be  a  spy,  who 
meant  to  get  a  good  price  for  the  famous  papers. 
But  why  had  she  not  stolen  them  before?  Perhaps 
she  had  been  in  treaty  with  the  enemy  but  had 
failed  to  get  the  terms  she  wanted.  It  did  not 
seem  adequate,  but  it  was  the  only  solution  they 
could  suggest. 

Assuming,  then,  that  she  had  stolen  the  papers 
to  make  money,  what  would  be  her  first  step? 
Beatrice  —  and  Lionel  agreed  with  her  —  thought 
that  she  was  too  clever  to  deal  with  underlings: 
she  would  go  as  near  to  the  fountainhead  as  she 
could,  to  the  Turkish  ambassador  himself,  for  he 
was  a  known  adherent  of  the  old  regime.  She 
would  go  as  soon  as  possible,  the  next  morning  — 
i.  e.,  about  the  present,  what  time  Lionel  was  drink- 
ing beer  in  The  Happy  Heart, —  but  a  dim  recol- 
lection was  beating  in  the  brain  of  Beatrice  that 


AT  THE  HAPPY  HEART  151 

she  had  seen  something  of  importance  in  the  society 
news  of  a  few  days  past.  They  searched  the  flat 
for  every  newspaper,  and  at  last  found  the  sheet 
they  wanted.  Hope  beating  at  the  doors,  they 
scanned  the  column  that  Lionel  never  read,  but 
that  Beatrice  studied  first.  Yes!  there  it  was  — 
the  justification  of  her  memory  for  seeming  trivi- 
alities. "  His  excellency  the  Turkish  ambassador 
has  gone  for  a  few  days'  golf  to  Shereling."  Be- 
atrice threw  the  paper  away  in  flushed  triumph, 
thought  deeply  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  said, 
"  You  must  go  there.  Mizzi  may  follow  and  try 
to  succeed  at  Shereling.  Watch  and  do  the  best 
you  can.  I  shall  stay  in  London  in  case  I  am  wrong, 
and  keep  an  eye  on  the  embassy.  If  she  is  at 
Shereling,  try  to  get  the  treaty.  I  must  leave  you 
to  work  on  your  own  lines.  If  I  hear  anything 
I  shall  wire  to  the  local  inn.  Will  you  ?  " 

Of  course  he  said,  "  Yes.  Is  there  anything 
else?" 

"  Money.  No  —  do  not  protest.  This  is  life  and 
death,  and  both  cost  money."  She  ran  to  a  little 
safe  and  returned,  her  hands  full.  "  Here  are  notes 
for  a  hundred  pounds  or  more.  You  may  have  to 
bribe.  Do  not  refuse  —  it  is  for  Lukos !  " 

Lionel  longed  to  say,  "  Madam,  my  life  and  for- 


152  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

tune  are  at  your  disposal.  Let  there  be  no  mention 
of  money  between  us."  But  seeing  that  his  stock 
of  ready  cash  had  dwindled  to  twopence-halfpenny 
(he  had  bought  a  packet  of  ten  cigarettes  the  day 
before,  and  now  cursed  the  extravagance),  he  could 
only  say,  "  As  you  will." 

"  Thank  you/'  she  said  softly,  and  laid  her  hand 
on  his  head.  He  thrilled,  and  she  administered  a 
necessary  antidote.  "  It  is  for  Lukos !  " 

"  Oh,  hang  Lukos ! "  he  groaned  in  spirit ;  and 
then  in  swift  repentance  his  thoughts  mumbled, 
"  No,  no !  Bless  Lukos  —  dear  old  Lukos !  Poor 
old  chap!" 

After  this  there  had  been  nothing  but  idle  con- 
versation until  the  hour  of  his  departure  approached. 
Once  Beatrice  fell  into  a  fit  of  musing  and  presently 
she  said,  "  What  a  fool  I  was  to  tell  Mizzi !  "  A 
younger  man  might  have  said,  "  Not  at  all :  it  was 
perfectly  natural."  Lionel,  older,  more  self-reliant, 
and  more  honest,  replied  simply,  "  We  all  make  mis- 
takes," for  he  thought  her  folly  almost  incredible. 
She  felt  this  —  they  were  more  than  sympathiques 
—  and  said,  "  Ah !  if  you  knew !  I  was  very  lonely 
one  night  .  .  .  lonely  and  sad  ...  I  had  to  talk 
to  some  one,  and  believed  her  a  true  friend.  You 
can  imagine  my  self-reproach."  He  could,  and  felt 


AT  THE  HAPPY  HEART  153 

himself  more  than  justified  in  pressing  her  hand. 

Presently  there  had  been  some  suspense,  for  when 
the  time  came  for  him  to  leave  the  flat,  at  half  past 
four,  Beatrice  had  peeped  from  the  window  and 
imagined  that  she  saw  a  man  watching  the  house. 
Lionel  peeped  too,  but  could  see  nothing.  Never- 
theless they  had  waited  another  ten  minutes,  as  long 
as  they  dared  if  he  was  to  catch  the  first  train.  But 
at  length  he  resolved  to  risk  a  spy,  and  after  a  brief, 
tense,  but  outwardly  calm  "  good-by  "  he  had  left 
the  house.  By  taking  a  cab  he  reached  Euston  in 
time,  and  at  last  was  established  in  the  train.  So 
far  as  he  knew,  he  had  not  been  followed :  the  only 
stranger  he  had  noticed  had  been  a  man  who  was 
in  the  train  before  he  was  on  the  platform,  so  from 
him  there  could  be  nothing  to  fear. 

And  now  he  was  in  The  Happy  Heart,  resting 
after  a  dusty  three-mile  walk  from  Shereling  sta- 
tion, drinking  good  English  beer,  far  from  all 
thought  of  Oriental  craft  and  scheming.  He  was 
in  Shereling,  on  the  second  stage  of  his  fond  ad- 
venture. What  was  to  be  the  first  step? 

In  spite  of  the  rest  and  beer  he  felt  discontented, 
and  glumly  wished  that  Beatrice  were  at  hand.  To 
what  end?  To  advise,  direct,  console,  or  soothe? 
He  hardly  knew,  but  darkly  suspected  that  it  was 


154  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

for  the  weaker  reason.  Idly  he  allowed  himself  to 
remember  the  touch  of  her  delightful  fingers,  cool, 
nervous  and  alluring:  the  seduction  of  her  hair, 
the  brilliant  command  of  her  eyes.  But  it  was  not 
these  only  that  inspired  his  grateful  remembrance: 
it  was  also  her  lovely  personality,  her  courage,  her 
charm,  herself.  Of  course  it  could  not  be  love; 
that  was  absurd.  It  was  a  flame  kindled  by  the 
sympathy  of  a  comrade  —  the  kind  of  comrade  he 
had  never  known.  Possibly  the  fact  that  he 
had  not  enjoyed  any  extensive  woman-friendships 
during  the  recent  years  had  made  him  exaggerate 
her  qualities :  she  might  be  rare,  but  could  she  be  so 
rare  as  he  thought  her?  Supposing  he  met  some 
other  delightful  woman  soon,  might  not  the  pleasant 
image  of  Beatrice  lose  something  of  its  luster?  He 
shook  himself  impatiently;  it  was  a  foolish  thought. 
Other  women  might  be  delightful,  charming,  desir- 
able, but  there  could  only  be  a  single  Beatrice. 
How  pretty  she  was!  How  —  and  here  the  figure 
of  Lukos  beckoned  a  grim  warning:  "  It  is  time  you 
put  your  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  my  .  .  .  friends! " 
"All  right,  old  chap  —  all  right!"  said  Lionel 
petulantly  to  the  shade.  "  Don't  be  in  such  a  beastly 
hurry.  It's  not  love  .  .  .  it's  not  love,  I  tell  you. 


AT  THE  HAPPY  HEART  155 

Just  a  superlative  esteem  for  your  splendid  wife 
.  .  .  Your  wife,"  he  added  with  a  martyr's  sigh. 
And  then  he  raised  the  tankard,  feeling  that  it  ought 
to  hold  Tokay.  "  Here's  to  her ! "  he  murmured, 
drinking  deep.  He  put  the  pewter  down,  but  raised 
it  again.  "  And  to  you,  old  chap !  "  he  added  gen- 
erously. ".  .  .  Hullo!  there's  none  left.  Beg 
pardon." 

As  he  finished,  the  door  opened  and  admitted  a 
chubby  little  clergyman,  who  sat  down  with  a 
courteous  "  Good  morning !  "  Lionel  made  haste 
to  remove  his  legs  from  the  bench.  The  landlord 
followed  close  upon  the  heels  of  the  newcomer. 
"  Morning,  sir,"  said  the  landlord  respectfully. 
"  Will  you  take  anything?  " 

"  Draught  cider.  Half  a  pint,"  said  the  clergy- 
man briskly.  The  landlord  disappeared,  and  he 
turned,  smiling.  "  You  should  try  the  cider  of 
The  Happy  Heart,"  he  said  —  "  that  is,  if  you  have 
not  done  so  already.  I  allow  myself  that  as  a  con- 
cession to  the  flesh." 

"  And  a  sensible  concession,  too,"  replied  Lionel 
heartily.  He  was  pleased  that  a  gentleman  in  Holy 
Orders  did  not  think  it  undignified  to  drink  in  a 
common  "  pub."  "  I  have  been  drinking  beer,  and 


156  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

very  good  it  is  —  or  was.  But  I  must  try  the  cider, 
if  I  remain  here." 

"Staying  long?"  asked  the  other  pleasantly. 
And  when  Lionel  said,  guardedly,  that  he  had  not 
quite  settled  yet,  the  clergyman  did  not  pursue  the 
question,  but  passed  on  to  other  themes.  "  I  am 
the  local  parson,"  he  said  chattily.  "  My  name  is 
Peters."  As  he  spoke  the  landlord  came  back  with 
the  clerical  cider  and  a  telegram. 

"Does  your  name  happen  to  be  Mortimer,  sir?  " 
he  asked.  "  Because  if  so,  this  here  telegram  is 
for  you." 

"  It  is,"  said  Lionel  in  some  surprise.  The  wire 
could  only  be  from  Beatrice,  but  he  had  not  ex- 
pected any  communication  from  her  as  yet.  With 
a  brief  apology  he  opened  the  yellow  envelope  and 
read  its  contents.  It  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep 
from  betraying  his  astonishment.  The  wire  read 
as  follows: — 

"  Hope  you  had  pleasant  journey.  My  sus- 
picions deepen.  Try  stay  Arkwright  twin.  Sus- 
pect even  her.  Wait  further  wire. — BLAIR." 

He  read  the  telegram  three  times,  but  it  was 
not  till  the  third  reading  that  he  grasped  the  im- 
port of  "  Arkwright  twin."  He  knew  no  one  of 
the  name  of  Arkwright,  nor  had  he  ever  claimed  ac- 


AT  THE  HAPPY  HEART  157 

quaintance  with  a  twin.  "  The  nearest  I  could  do 
is  triplets,"  he  thought.  "Johnson  of  the  House 
was  a  triplet,  I  remember,  but  that's  no  good  to  me. 
.  .  .  Who  on  earth  ...  ? "  And  then  he  re- 
called Beatrice  saying  that  she  had  a  twin  sister  who 
had  disapproved  of  her  stage  career.  Of  course  it 
must  be  she.  He  had  been  so  accustomed  to  think 
of  his  preceptress  as  Beatrice  Blair  that  he  had  al- 
most forgotten  it  must  be  a  stage  name.  And  so 
she  was  really  an  Arkwright  —  rather  a  pretty  name 
on  the  whole,  though  unworthy  of  her  high  claims; 
failing  Beatrice  Blair,  it  ought  to  have  been  Rosa- 
lind .  .  .  Rosalind  what?  Rosalind  Roy  .  .  . 
Rosalind  Gay  .  .  .  Rosalind  Ebbsfleet  .  .  .  Rosa- 
lind Wise.  .  .  .  He  smiled  as  his  thoughts  played 
with  a  score  of  dainty  conceits.  He  was  roused  to 
common  sense  and  depression  by  the  remembrance 
that  she  was  really  Mrs.  Lukos.  But  was  Lukos 
a  surname  ?  "  Let's  hope  not,"  he  reflected  sourly. 

"  No  bad  news,  I  trust,"  said  the  chubby  clergy- 
man, with  a  polite  but  ecclesiastical  inflection. 

"No  —  no,"  answered  Lionel  abruptly.  He 
abandoned  Rosalind  completely  and  tried  to  arrange 
his  thoughts.  "  By  the  way,  do  you  happen  to  know 
any  one  of  the  name  of  Arkwright  in  the  neighbor- 
hood?" 


158  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

The  chubby  clergyman  looked  interested. 

"  I  do  and  I  don't,"  he  said,  pulling  his  chair 
close  to  the  table  and  leaning  on  his  elbows.  "  A 
Miss  Arkwright  lives  at  The  Quiet  House.  She 
has  been  the  tenant  for  only  two  months,  and  no- 
body has  seen  her  yet." 

"What!" 

"  It  sounds  odd,"  said  the  clergyman  with  the 
smile  of  one  who  has  an  interesting  story  for  a 
virgin  audience,  "  but  it  is  true.  She  calls  on  no- 
body, and  denies  herself  to  every  caller.  She  is 
never  seen  in  the  village  except  when  driving  in 
her  motor,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  she  does  not 
come  to  church." 

"  But  surely  something  is  known  of  her, — 
through  the  servants,  for  instance " 

"  She  has  a  housekeeper,  I  believe,  who  makes 
friends  with  nobody;  a  dumb  gardener  and  a  dumb 
footman.  A  little  extraordinary,  eh  ?  "  He  rubbed 
his  hands  with  zest.  "  But  it  is  true  none  the  less. 
Of  course,  all  sorts  of  gossip  have  been  greedily  ac- 
cepted. I  never  listen  to  gossip  —  one  has  to  think 
of  one's  position  —  but  some  things  can  not  be  hid. 
.  .  .  They  say  she  takes  motor  drives  at  night, — 
every  night.  I  do  not  credit  the  '  every  ' — ex- 
aggeration is  so  prevalent.  I  always  believe  less 


AT  THE  HAPPY  HEART  159 

than  half  what  the  villagers  tell  me  —  that  is,  what 
drifts  round  to  my  ears." 

"But  what  does  she  do  all  day?"  asked  Lionel. 
Clearly  this  was  a  queer  state  of  affairs. 

"  I  do  not  know.  Her  grounds  are  large.  Per- 
haps she  gardens." 

"  You  do  not  think  there  is  any  fear  of  ...  of 
a  scandal  ?  "  asked  Lionel  in  a  pained  voice,  anxious 
not  to  wound. 

"  I  trust  not  ...  I  trust  not.  I  have  no  reason 
to  think.  ...  Of  course,  things  do  look  odd,  and 
my  wife  says  .  .  .  but,  no!  I  am  sure  she  must  be 
wrong.  I  ...  I  hope  so." 

"  Mrs.  Peters  has  heard ?  "  hazarded  Lionel. 

The  clergyman  shook  his  head  with  dignity. 

"  Nothing.  Nothing.  My  wife  called,  but  was 
refused  admittance.  Naturally  she,  as  the  vicar's 
wife,  felt  a  little  hurt.  .  .  ." 

"  Of  course,"  agreed  Lionel.  "  But  no  other 
friends  come?  Nobody  in  motors?" 

"  I  believe  not.  I  should  have  heard, —  it  would 
have  drifted  round  to  me  in  the  course  of  time." 

"  Nobody  stays  here,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  —  golfers.  One  is  here  now  —  an  ex- 
cellent man, — •  old  and  of  foreign  origin,  I  believe. 
He  calls  himself  Beckett;  but  he  has  told  me  (in 


160  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

confidence)  that  he  is  here  for  rest,  incognito.  He 
may  be  somebody  of  importance  —  an  excellent 
man,  however.  He  gave  me  a  guinea  for  our  res- 
toration fund  the  day  I  showed  him  the  church." 

"The  ambassador!"  was  Lionel's  swift  conclu- 
sion; and  then  aloud,  "  Has  he  been  here  long?  " 

"  Three  days.  For  golf.  We  have  played  a  few 
rounds."  He  smiled  at  some  hidden  joy.  "  He  is 
not  very  good,  for  even  I  can  give  him  a  stroke  a 
hole.  Uncommunicative  —  very,  but  interesting,  a 
gentleman,  and  I  should  say  a  seeker." 

"  Ah!  "  said  Lionel,  getting  up.  "  Well,  I  must 
go  on.  Can  you  tell  me  how  to  find  The  Quiet 
House?" 

The  other  gasped. 

"You  are  going  to  call! "  He  recollected  him- 
self and  apologized.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  .  .  . 
go  straight  down  the  road  .  .  .  the  prettiest  house 
on  the  right.  By  the  way,  if  you  are  staying  here 
I  should  be  happy  to  take  you  round  the  links.  Or 
show  you  the  church " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Lionel.  "  You  are  very 
good,  but  I  don't  know  how  long  I  shall  be  stay- 
ing." 

"  Well,  come  round  and  smoke  a  pipe  after  din- 
ner," suggested  the  clergyman.  His  eagerness  to 


AT  THE  HAPPY  HEART  161 

secure  one  who  knew  Miss  Arkwright  was  poorly 
disguised.  "  I  would  say,  come  and  dine,  but  Mrs. 
Peters  .  .  ." 

He  left  it  to  be  understood  that  Mrs.  Peters'  per- 
mission must  first  be  obtained.  Lionel  could  hardly 
restrain  a  smile.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said;  "  I  can  not 
promise  yet,  but  I  will  remember.  Good-by." 

He  left  Mr.  Peters  rejoicing  over  a  fresh  piece  of 
news  that  had  "  drifted  round,"  which  he  meant  to 
retail  to  his  wife  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  As 
he  sat  down  again  to  finish  his  modest  allowance, 
Tony  Wild  and  Mr.  Hedderwick  made  an  unob- 
trusive appearance.  They  had  watched  Lionel  turn 
the  corner  before  approaching,  for  Robert  was  not 
anxious  to  meet  his  late  visitor  by  daylight. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Tony.  He  turned  to 
his  friend, —  "What's  yours?  Mine  is  beer,  and 
lots  of  it!" 

"  Mine's  bed,"  said  Robert,  and  sat  down  with 
a  yawn. 


CHAPTER  XII 

CROSSED    ORBITS 

THERE  are  few  things  more  restful  than 
watching  other  people  working  hard,  and  the 
sensation  is  doubly  piquant  when  one  is  sitting  in 
the  shade  watching  the  worker  toiling  beneath  the 
sun.  Mrs.  Peters  was  sitting  in  the  shade;  and 
though  she  would  have  denied  the  suggestion  of  idle- 
ness (for  was  she  not  picking  the  names  of  likely 
helpers  for  the  imminent  bazaar?),  it  was  not  un- 
pleasant to  observe  Brown,  the  odd-job  man,  mow- 
ing the  lawn.  He  seemed  willing,  though  of 
course  you  must  remember  he  had  been  taken  on 
only  two  days  ago,  and  besides,  knew  that  the  mis- 
tress had  her  eye  on  him;  sober,  too,  refusing  beer 
in  favor  of  lemonade  —  but  there!  that  might  be 
hypocrisy,  for  there  is  always  something,  and  these 
quiet  men  are  often  worse  than  the  patently  un- 
steady. Probably  he  gambled.  .  .  .  Still,  at  pres- 
ent he  was  undeniably  working,  and  he  had  sense 

enough  to  oil  the  machine  every  quarter  of  an  hour. 

162 


CROSSED  ORBITS  163 

The  vicarage  lawn  was  big  enough  for  two  ten- 
nis-courts, with  a  little  over  for  croquet  in  miniature 
or  clock-golf.  It  took,  theoretically,  an  able-bodied 
man  an  hour  and  a  half  to  "  run  the  machine  over 
it."  The  optimistic  phrase  was  the  vicar's,  who  had 
not  run  the  machine  (or  its  predecessors)  for  twenty 
years.  A  succession  of  practical  runners  made  the 
sum  come  out  differently ;  and  one  rebellious  soul  — 
"  of  course,  my  dear,  a  radical  chapel-goer  " —  had 
invited  his  employer  to  shove  the  qualified  mower 
himself  and  see  if  'e  could  do  it  in  a  qualified  how- 
erananarf.  The  sporting  offer  was  not  accepted, 
but  the  idealistic  standard  maintained.  It  was,  in 
fact,  a  grass-cutting  bogy  who  had  never  been 
beaten  yet. 

"  Be  careful,  Brown,"  said  Mrs.  Peters,  prepara- 
tory to  a  departure  indoors,  "  to  gather  up  all  the 
grass  and  put  it  in  the  sack.  It  looks  so  untidy  if 
you  leave  any  lying  about." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Brown  respectfully ;  "  I'll  be 
sure  to  do  so.  I  ought  to  finish  in  half  an  hour  or 
so." 

"Less,  if  you  work,  Brown,"  said  Mrs.  Peters 
reprovingly.  She  knew  he  had  been  mowing  for 
little  over  an  hour,  but  discipline  must  be  kept  up. 
Besides,  does  not  Browning  say,  "  A  man's  reach 


1164  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

should  exceed  his  grasp,  or  what's  a  Heaven  for  ?  " 
Without  waiting  for  possible  protests  she  went  into 
the  house. 

The  odd-job  man  smiled. 

"  She's  all  right,"  he  said  softly  to  no  one  in  par- 
ticular. "  Oh,  lor',  yes!.  .She's  all  right." 

He  whistled  softly,  but  without  obvious  discon- 
tent, and  made  a  change  in  his  labors.  Giving  the 
machine  a  well-earned  rest,  he  began  to  gather  up 
the  cut  grass  from  a  square  of  canvas  that  lay  ex- 
tended on  the  ground  and  stuffed  it  into  the  sack 
referred  to  by  Mrs.  Peters.  This  task  brought  him 
near  the  tall  privet-hedge,  reinforced  by  a  four-foot 
paling,  which  sheltered  the  vicarage  garden  from 
the  road.  He  had  hardly  accounted  for  a  dozen  arm- 
fuls  when  a  voice  from  the  other  side  of  the  hedge 
said,  "  Good  morning." 

Regardless  of  Mrs.  Peters'  late  instructions,  the 
odd-job  man  dropped  a  generous  portion  of  grass 
and  stood  transfixed.  "  So  you've  come !  "  he  said 
quietly  but  distinctly.  "  For  goodness'  sake  let's 
have  a  look  at  your  pretty  face !  " 

The  privet-hedge  parted,  and  a  damsel  of  twenty- 
three  smiled  upon  the  gratified  Brown. 

"  Is  that  better?"  she  asked. 

"  Lots/'  replied  the  odd-job  man,  pressing  closer 


CROSSED  ORBITS  165 

to  the  hedge.  "  But  I  tell  you  what  would  be  bet- 
ter still " 

"Yes?" 

"  I  shall  have  to  whisper  it.  .  .  ." 

The  damsel,  full  of  innocent  curiosity,  bent  for- 
ward to  listen.  The  odd- job  man,  congratulating 
himself  on  extraordinary  cunning,  bent  forward  and 
essayed  a  kiss  of  welcome.  The  intended  recipient, 
however,  seemed  to  be  possessed  of  a  sixth  sense  or 
instinct,  for,  when  his  lips  were  on  the  point  of 
meeting  hers,  she  drew  back  with  a  melodious  cry 
of  surprise.  The  kiss  was  too  late  to  be  checked, 
and  unhappily  was  bestowed  upon  a  bunch  of  privet. 

The  odd-job  man  mildly  whispered  the  equivalent 
of  "How  very  annoying!"  and  then  remonstrated 
in  a  louder  tone.  He  pointed  out  that  he  had  not 
seen  his  visitor  for  a  week,  and  that  under  the  cir- 
cumstances the  least  she  could  do,  etc. 

"Ye  .  .  .  es,"  agreed  the  damsel,  parting  the 
hedge  once  more,  "  it  is  true,  all  that  you  say.  But 
you  forget  that  you  have  not  earned  it  yet." 

"  Holy  Moses!  "  said  the  odd-job  man,  appealing 
to  the  heavens.  "  Here  I  chuck  my  job  in  London 
at  a  word  —  or,  rather,  a  letter  from  you !  I  come 
down  here  got  up  as  a  laborer;  I  hang  about  the 
blessed  village  till  I'm  sick  for  the  town  and  you 


i66  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

again ;  I  get  taken  on  here  to  work  —  and,  mind  you, 
it  is  work,  though  I  don't  grumble  at  that.  And 
it's  all  for  to  keep  an  eye  on  a  chap  I've  never 
seen." 

"And  not  for  me?" 

"  You  silly  chu  —  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss  — 
that  is,  my  dear !  What  I  do  mean  is,  who  are  you 
gettin'  at?  Of  course,  it's  for  you,  and  I'm  going 
through  with  it.  But  I  do  think  you  might  give  me 
a  bit  of  encouragement  like,  when  you  come  at 
last " 

He  paused;  there  was  the  sound  of  steps  coming 
down  the  road,  and  he  had  no  wish  to  be  overheard 
courting.  Thus  drawn  back  to  real  life,  conscience 
pricked  him,  and  he  wondered  if  there  was  any  dan- 
ger of  Mrs.  Peters  reappearing.  In  a  panic  he 
looked  over  his  shoulder.  .  .  .  No!  the  lawn  was 
deserted:  he  still  had  time.  But  when  he  turned 
to  the  hedge  he  was  surprised  to  see  his  love  with 
her  head  pushed  right  through  the  privet,  scarlet 
from  excitement.  A  hand,  too,  appeared,  enjoin- 
ing caution  and  silence. 

You  must  have  recognized  ere  this  that  Brown, 
the  odd-job  man  beneath  the  thrall  of  Mrs.  Peters, 
was  none  other  than  Mr.  Henry  Brown,  cab-pro- 
prietor, under  different  auspices.  You  will  remem- 


CROSSED  ORBITS  167 

ber,  then,  the  type  of  man  he  was  but  a  few  chap- 
ters ago,  middle-aged,  reserved,  cautious  and  a  lit- 
tle unenterprising.  But  you  will  not  forget  that 
love  had  made  a  change  in  his  habits,  outlook  and 
elan.  He  was  younger  now,  more  alert,  audacious 
and  full  of  guile.  So  you  must  not  be  surprised 
that  when  he  saw  his  lady  beckoning,  appealing  to 
him  to  come  closer,  be  careful,  not  talk,  but  observe 
—  when  he  saw  her  head  (and  it  was  a  very  pretty 
head)  framed  in  harmonious  privet  —  when  he  saw 
this  gift  of  fortune,  you  must  not  be  surprised  that 
he  accepted  it.  He  drew  near  and  kissed  her  very 
quietly  but  very  heartily.  She,  for  some  obscure 
reason  wishing  to  remain  unseen,  did  not  dare  to 
withdraw  her  head  or  box  his  ears.  All  she  could 
do  was  to  bite  her  lip  and  stamp  her  dainty  heel, 
while  she  remained,  ostrich-like,  in  the  hedge. 

The  footsteps  passed,  but  before  they  began  to 
grow  fainter  Henry  Brown  repeated  the  salutation. 
"  Couldn't  help  it !  "  he  said  meekly,  answering  the 
sparkle  in  her  eyes.  "  You  shouldn't  tempt  a  man. 
Now,  what's  the  row  ?  " 

She  was  too  excited  to  rebuke  him;  the  moment 
was  too  precious  to  be  lost.  "  You  see  him?  "  she 
queried,  pointing  to  the  retreating  figure  of  Lionel, 
who  was  on  the  road  to  The  Quiet  House.  "  Well, 


i68  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

that  is  the  man  you  are  to  watch !  That  is  he  from 
whom  you  are  to  recover  the  document!" 

"  The  deuce  it  is ! "  said  Henry,  gazing  after 
Lionel  with  interest.  "  Well,  he's  big  enough  to 
give  trouble.  .  .  ." 

"You  are  not  afraid?" 

"  Not  particularly,"  he  said  with  a  slow  smile. 
"  It's  not  a  job  I  hanker  after,  but  I've  promised 
you  to  try,  and  I  will  try.  You'll  tell  me,  I  dare 
say,  what  you  think  the  best  way  of  setting  about 
it?" 

"  Of  course.  You  are  far  too  stupid  to  think  for 
yourself.  And  now,  good-by !  " 

"  I  say,  you're  not  going !  And  I  had  such  a  lot 
to  talk  about  .  .  .  that  wedding,  for  instance.  .  .  ." 

"What  wedding?"     She  paused,  chin  in  air. 

"Come!  that's  a  good  'un.     Ours." 

"  Pstt!  the  assurance  of  these  male  creatures!  — 
As  if  I  would  marry  a  man  who  kisses  me  by  force! 
No,  Mr.  Brown,  do  not  count  on  that.  Do  what 
you  have  promised  first,  and  then  I  will  think  about 
it.  If  I  choose,  well  ...  If  I  do  not  choose, 
well  ...  I  promise  nothing." 

"  That's  a  poor  sort  of  bargain." 

"  It  is  no  bargain :  I  do  not  bargain.  I  give  an 
order.  Good-by.  Oh,  I  will  write  to  you  — — " 


CROSSED  ORBITS  169 

"  Thank  you  —  thank  you "  he  began. 

"  To  tell  you  what  to  do.  I  shall  not  be  far,  but 
you  must  not  attempt  to  see  me  without  my 
leave." 

She  turned  on  her  heel  and  marched  down  the 
road.  The  odd-job  man  whistled  in  amused  dis- 
may. "  They're  all  alike,"  he  muttered  as  he  turned 
to  his  work  again  and  met  the  vicar's  wife.  She 
was  coming  from  the  house  and  wore  a  severe  ex- 
pression. 

"  Did  I  hear  you  talking,  Brown  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say,  ma'am,"  he  answered  stolidly.  She 
frowned. 

"  Be  good  enough  not  to  equivocate,"  she  com- 
manded. "  Were  you  talking?  " 

"  I  often  talk  aloud  to  myself,"  said  Henry  mildly. 
He  was  an  honest  man  and  did  not  take  kindly  to 
lies,  even  of  the  whitest.  Mrs.  Peters  frowned 
again. 

"  Indeed !  "  she  said  icily.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say 
you  were  not  talking  to  a  young  woman  through  the 
hedge?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Henry,  "  I  was.  I  suppose 
I'm  allowed  to  rest  for  a  minute  now  and  then." 

"  Rest  is  a  very  different  thing  from  philander- 
ing. That  I  can  not  allow.  It  looks  very  bad  from 


170  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

the  road  to  see  the  vicarage  servants  gossiping  or 
worse  through  the  hedge.  Remember,  Brown,  it 
must  not  happen  again.  I  can  not  understand  one  of 
our  village  girls " 

She  paused  interrogatively,  but  Henry  was  not 
so  silly  as  to  fall  into  the  trap.  He  began  to  oil 
the  machine,  and  even  Mrs.  Peters  did  not  like 
to  ask  pointblank  who  his  sweetheart  was.  In- 
stead, she  finished  with  a  snap,  " — making  herself 
so  cheap." 

She  went  back  to  the  house  again.  Henry 
straightened  up  and  glared  after  her.  "  They're  all 
alike !  "  he  said  again ;  but  how  he  could  include  two 
such  different  people  as  Mrs.  Peters  and  his  adored 
in  the  same  condemnation  is  hard  to  understand. 
The  words  of  the  sentence,  it  is  true,  were  identical; 
but  the  inflection  hinted  at  a  great  gulf  fixed  be- 
tween the  two  offenders.  Possibly  they  were 
charged  with  different  offenses. 

"They're  all  alike.  .  .  ."  Are  they?  Does  the 
same  essential  lurk  beneath  the  surface?  Suppos- 
ing we  could  dissect  Mrs.  Peters,  Alicia,  Mizzi,  Bea- 
trice Blair,  and  a  thousand  Ermyntrudes  or  Sallies, 
should  we  find  the  same  germ  of  woman?  Take 
Lionel's  evidence,  if  it  were  available.  You  might 
safely  assert  that  to  him  Beatrice  was  different  from 


CROSSED  ORBITS  171 

and  superior  to  any  other  woman  you  could  pro- 
duce. Henry  Brown  would  as  stoutly  hold  the 
same  of  his  anonymous  sweetheart.  Mr.  Peters 
and  Mr.  Redder  wick  we  may  hope  would  take  an 
identical  line,  or  at  least  they  would  have  once.  But 
these  are,  or  have  been,  lovers,  the  blindest  of  mor- 
tals, and  their  evidence  is  too  partial  to  be  trust- 
worthy. A  cynic  like  Pope  would  tell  you  that 
every  woman  is  at  heart  a  rake,  and  might  find  a 
score  of  others  to  support  him.  A  Shaw  might 
produce  a  monster  like  Ann  Whitfield  and  brazenly 
say  she  was  typical.  A  Chesterton  would  talk  of 
wromen  being  sublime  as  individuals  but  horrible  in 
a  herd.  A  son  might  say  that  his  mother  was  per- 
fect, but  he,  too,  would  be  partial.  What  is  the 
truth  about  woman?  Only  a  woman  can  say,  and 
she  would  find  it  hard  to  take  a  detached  view. 
Probably  truth  was  partly  expressed  by  the  odd-job 
man  in  words  —  wholly  expressed  by  his  words  and 
inflection.  They  are  human  and  feminine  if  you 
probe  deep  enough,  but  there  are  variations,  unimag- 
ined  harmonies  and  discords  for  the  seeker. 
"  They're  all  alike  " —  with  a  difference,  and  no 
man  can  learn  the  whole  truth  from  a  text-book. 
The  text-book  can  give  him  elementary  rules  which 
may  serve  him  well,  but  he  must  be  prepared  to 


172  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

find  plenty  of  exceptions.  The  student,  however, 
need  not  fear  monotony. 

But  while  we  have  been  indulging  in  cheap  philos- 
ophy Mr.  Brown's  sweetheart  has  got  well  down  the 
road,  following  at  a  considerable  distance  the  foot- 
steps of  Lionel.  Evidently  she  is  in  a  good  humor 
with  the  world,  for  she  hums  an  air  that  has  a 
sprightly  sound  as  of  the  boulevards  or  cabarets, 
and  she  stops  to  pick  a  wild  rose.  She  is  smiling 
at  her  thoughts  —  possibly  at  the  lamentable  lack  of 
self-control  exhibited  by  her  lover,  possibly  at  the 
remembrance  of  the  grass  still  to  be  mown  and 
neatly  gathered.  And  as  she  is  in  a  good  humor, 
self-possessed,  and  the  air  is  of  the  balmiest,  is  it 
wonderful  that  she  should  smile  absently  on  a  good- 
looking  stranger  sitting  by  the  roadside,  smoking  a 
cigarette?  Surely  not,  as  the  stranger  is  Tony 
Wild,  who  has  left  Mr.  Hedderwick  exhausted  at 
The  Happy  Heart,  while  he  strolls  out  to  examine 
the  lie  of  the  land. 

"  Good  morning,"  says  Tony  courteously,  raising 
his  cap.  He  does  not  get  up,  for  that  might 
frighten  her  away.  "  Can  you  tell  me  which  is 
the  road  to  Hetton-le-Hole  ?  Forgive  me  asking, 
but  .  .  ." 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  it,"  says  the  lady,  with 


CROSSED  ORBITS  173 

a  smile  that  shows  she  penetrates  Tony's  elementary 
artifice.  "  I  am  sorry.  .  .  .  Good  morning." 

Tony  deliberately  flicks  the  ash  from  his  ciga- 
rette. 

"  What  a  bore ! "  he  observes  with  a  fluent  lazi- 
ness in  his  voice,  and  of  course  the  lady  can  not  con- 
tinue her  progress  while  he  is  speaking.  It  would 
look  so  prudish.  "  I  was  awfully  keen  on  seeing 
Hetton-le-Hole,  but  nobody  here  seems  to  know 
the  road,  so  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  give  up  the 
idea.  I  say,  don't  you  find  life  rather  a  bore?" 
It  was  an  abrupt  change  of  subject,  but  there  seemed 
no  inconsequence  as  the  words  dropped  idly  from 
his  lips.  He  appeared  to  be  talking  at  random  for 
an  obvious  purpose,  but  with  an  unaffected  sincerity. 
"  Nothing  to  do,  I  mean,  and  not  a  vast  amount  to 
see.  One  day  following  another,  and  so  forth,  you 
know  .  .  ." 

"  Heavens,  no !  "  replied  the  lady  with  an  amused 
contempt.  "  There  is  so  much  to  see  —  to  ask  — 
to  think  about!  What  can  a  young  man  like  you 
think  of  himself  if  he  is  bored  at  ...  at  twenty- 
six?" 

"Good  shot!"  said  Tony.  "I  say,  please  for- 
give me  being  so  forward  and  pushing  and  all  that, 
and  do  sit  down  and  talk  to  me.  I  should  be  tre- 


174  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

mendously  gratified,  and  I'd  do  my  best  to  amuse 
you." 

"  I  have  stayed  too  long  already,"  she  said  with 
a  crisp  note  of  rebuke.  "  I  have  neither  the  time 
nor  the  wish  to  stop  and  relieve  the  tedium  of  bored 
strangers.  I  hope  you  will  soon  find  the  road  you 
speak  of." 

She  turned  and  went  on  her  way.  Tony  smiled 
good-naturedly;  really,  she  had  been  quite  lenient, 
though  he  had  hardly  deserved  all  she  said  and  im- 
plied. She  was  more  than  pretty  and  was  evidently 
no  fool.  A  lady  ?  N  —  no  ...  but  .  .  .  was  it 
worth  following  up?  Should  he  try  to  engineer  a 
small  flirtation  or  be  content  with  the  fair  promises 
held  out  by  Mr.  Hedderwick?  N  ...  no  ... 
Yes !  She  had  spurned  his  lightly-proffered  homage 
to  her  charms,  and  amour  propre  would  not  allow 
him  to  give  in  without  a  struggle.  He  was  only  too 
willing  in  most  things  to  step  aside  of  his  own  free 
will  —  things  so  soon  lost  their  interest;  but  to  be 
forced  to  play  the  part  of  rejected  spectator,  that 
could  not  be  permitted.  His  eyes  followed  her 
smilingly.  "  I  bet  she  turns  and  waves !  "  thought 
the  despicable  Tony.  "  She's  a  charming  lady's 
maid  who  likes  fun,  respects  herself,  and  means  to 
be  treated  with  correctness- — when  she  chooses. 


CROSSED  ORBITS  175 

She  will  turn  and  wave  before  reaching  that  bend 
in  the  road.  And  /  will  be  stand-offish  and  refuse 
to  reply.  A  perfect  cause  of  offense,  with  a  delight- 
ful misunderstanding  to  follow.  But,  I  shall  fol- 
low her  secretly  along  the  hedge  and  find  out  where 
she  lives.  Admirable !  " 

She  had  gone  some  little  distance,  but  still  did  not 
turn  round.  Worshipers  of  beauty,  modesty,  good 
feeling  and  decorous  behavior,  rejoice!  She  did 
not  turn  round !  Her  gay  svelte  figure  marched 
bravely  along,  virginal  defiance  in  her  shoulders  and 
the  swing  of  her  tailor-made  skirt.  The  fragments 
of  a  gallant  whistle  floated  back  to  Tony,  and  he 
murmured  "  Bravado ! "  with  an  uneasy  doubt. 
The  curve  of  the  road  was  close  at  hand  now:  a  few 
more  yards  would  carry  her  past  in  triumph,  and 
the  sex  be  vindicated.  Tony  was  in  painful  agita- 
tion, for  his  knowledge  of  woman  and  powers  of 
swift  diagnosis  were  at  stake.  Three  yards  were 
left  —  two  —  hope  seemed  dead.  Then,  alas !  she 
stopped  and  a  smile  crept  to  his  lips.  But  she  did 
not  turn  round  —  there  is  still  a  loophole  for  the 
sex, —  she  did  not  turn  round !  All  she  did  was  to 
open  her  reticule  and  take  her  handkerchief  from  it. 
As  the  handkerchief  was  withdrawn  a  bit  of  paste- 
board was  caught  in  its  folds  and  fell  —  unnoticed  ? 


176  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

—  on  the  road.  Tony  waited  with  vast  content- 
ment until  she  had  turned  the  corner.  Then  with 
a  light  heart  he  followed  and  picked  up  the  card. 
He  read  the  inscription  with  amused  curiosity.  It 
was,  "  Miss  Arkwright,  The  Quiet  House." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

RATHER   STAGY 

AFTER  Beatrice  had  bidden  Lionel  good-by  in 
the  early  dawn  she  did  the  most  sensible 
thing  possible :  she  went  to  bed.  But  it  is  one  thing 
to  go  to  bed  and  another  to  go  to  sleep,  as  many  a 
sufferer  —  from  insomnia,  love,  indigestion,  or  kin- 
dred ailments  —  has  found  to  his  cost.  You  feel 
weary,  oppressed  with  the  want  of  sleep,  let  us  say, 
yawnsome  —  in  a  word,  ready  to  drop  off  the  mo- 
ment you  are  between  the  sheets.  But,  if  a  white 
night  be  inscribed  in  the  book  of  Fate,  how  changed 
the  mood  as  soon  as  the  light  is  out!  At  once,  al- 
most, you  lose  that  sense  of  impending  slumber  and 
become  wide  awake,  clear-eyed  and  keen  of  brain. 
Something  occurs  to  interest  your  mind  and  you 
meditate  perspicaciously  thereon.  Another  thought 
succeeds,  and  another,  and  you  grow  more  wakeful 
every  moment.  Soon  you  begin  to  say,  "  I  must 
go  to  sleep  now,"  and  resolutely  try  to  refuse  to 
think.  But  resolution  is  vain  before  insomnia. 
Eyelids  may  be  tightly  shut,  but  the  masked  eyeballs 


178  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

still  peer  vigilantly  into  the  void :  hands  may  clench 
themselves  in  the  hopeless  effort  to  compose  the  will 
and  induce  the  wished- for  slumber:  the  alert  body 
may  strive  to  cheat  itself  by  observing  the  accus- 
tomed ritual  —  first  on  the  right  side,  then  left, 
then  right  again  —  in  the  expectation  of  influencing 
mind  by  matter:  droves  of  sheep  may  be  counted 
passing  through  innumerable  gates  — poems  recited 
till  the  very  thought  of  verse  revolts  —  numerals 
repeated  by  the  ticking  brain  —  but  still  you  are 
far  from  the  haven.  It  seems  that 

"  Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora, 

Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world  " 

could  bestow  the  most  blessed  of  all  boons.  And 
at  last  you  give  up  the  unequal  struggle  and  try  to 
make  the  best  of  it. 

Failing  drugs  —  and  one  has  to  be  a  smart  so- 
ciety lady,  a  broken  man  or  woman,  for  them  — 
there  are  various  palliatives.  You  may  turn  on  the 
light  and  read  till  sleep  comes  with  soothing  fingers 
upon  tired  brows.  Or,  if  young  and  enterprising, 
you  can  go  for  a  walk  and  see  the  dawn.  Or  some- 
times an  impromptu  bedroom  picnic  —  bread  and 
cheese  and  a  bottle  of  beer  raided  thief -wise  from 
the  pantry,  taking  great  care  not  to  let  the  stairs 
creak  and  alarm  the  house  — may  have  excellent 


RATHER  STAGY  179 

results.  These,  and  a  score  of  similar  expedients, 
may  be  recommended  with  assurance  to  the  patient. 
And  if  they  fail,  at  least  they  have  passed  an  hour 
or  so  more  pleasantly  than  in  mere  acquiescence. 

Beatrice  lay  awake,  sorely  against  her  will.  She 
knew  that  sleep  was  what  she  needed,  and  would 
need  still  more  within  some  fourteen  hours.  The 
strain  of  acting,  followed  by  her  preposterous  ad- 
venture at  the  magnanimous  churchwarden's,  had 
used  up  more  of  her  nervous  resources  than  was 
desirable.  Sleep  was  therefore  the  obvious  thing. 
But  alas!  it  proved  the  impossible  thing,  too,  and 
she  lay  restless,  aglow  with  thought,  waiting  im- 
patiently for  what  she  knew  would  not  come. 

What  did  she  think  of  during  those  hours  of 
frenzied  vision?  Was  it  of  Lukos,  waiting  in  an 
eastern  prison  for  the  news  that  would  set  him  free 
to  join  her?  Was  it  her  dead  son,  the  little  boy 
she  had  spoken  of  to  Lionel?  Or  Turkey,  the  land 
of  her  adoption,  struggling  for  freedom,  enmeshed 
with  perils,  the  slave  of  diplomatic  and  selfish  ad- 
ventures? Her  art  —  had  it  a  place  within  those 
weary  wheels  of  thought;  her  success  on  the  stage, 
the  triumphs  of  the  footlights  —  illusory,  but  so 
real  in  seeming,  so  satisfying  and  complete?  Or 
Lionel  —  did  he  whip  her  straining  fancies  to  a 


i8o  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

wilder  effort  toward  the  goal?  Something  of  all 
these  may  have  engaged  her,  for  each  was  inex- 
tricably interwoven  with  the  others.  Ltikos  — 
Lionel  —  the  sultan  —  Mizza  —  the  Hedderwicks  — 
the  ambassador  —  a  hundred  minor  characters, 
"  supers  "  in  the  drama  of  her  life,  wheeled  hither 
and  thither,  mocking,  defying,  questioning.  The 
horrible  lines  of  Wilde  burned  in  letters  of  fire  upon 
the  wall : 

"  Slim  shadows  hand  in  hand : 
About,  about,  in  ghostly  rout 
They  trod  a  saraband: 

And  the  damned  grotesques  made  arabesques, 
Like  the  wind  upon  the  sand." 

Each  must  have  had  his  place  in  the  drama,  but 
the  important  question  was,  who  played  the  lead? 
Lukos  or  Lionel  —  honor  and  faith  or  ...  in- 
clination? Yet  that  is  hardly  a  fair  way  of  put- 
ting it:  she  must  not  define  her  interest  as  inclina- 
tion, hinting  at  something  more  potent.  Interest 
one  may  admit  without  qualification:  Lionel  had 
saved  her  life,  was  an  attractive  and  pleasant  young 
man,  and  had  been  her  guest  for  a  week.  Of  course 
Beatrice  was  interested;  she  would  have  been  hard 
or  inhuman  otherwise.  But  did  her  inclination 
show  signs  of  becoming  something  more?  Could 
she  honestly  say  in  the  stereotyped  phrase  that  "  he 


RATHER  STAGY  181 

was  nothing  to  her?  " —  nothing  being  the  antithesis 
of  everything.  In  that  sense  she  could  say  it,  for 
he  was  certainly  not  everything1.  But  was  "  noth- 
ing "  exact?  Ah!  .  .  . 

At  least  she  must  have  found  comfort  in  the  re- 
flection that  she  had  sent  him  away  on  an  errand 
that  would  avert  all  danger,  if  successfully  carried 
out.  She  had  been  .  .  .  weak  .  .  .  once  or  twice, 
but  such  a  weakness  may  find  a  ready  forgiveness, 
considering  the  circumstances  and  the  expiation. 
Which  of  us,  oh,  censorious  reader,  would  have  been 
as  strong  as  Beatrice? 

Still,  she  could  not  sleep,  and  for  the  present  that 
outweighed  all  moral  hesitations  and  scruples.  At 
seven  o'clock  she  gave  up  the  unequal  contest, 
dressed  and  went  out  for  a  short  walk.  The  air 
calmed  her,  and  she  gained  a  respite  from  the  self- 
examination  for  an  hour.  Then,  after  making  an 
effort  to  eat  some  breakfast,  she  sat  down  to  smoke 
a  cigarette  and  think  again  about  Lionel.  What 
was  he  like,  the  real  man,  the  true  Lionel  ?  Was  he 
a  man  to  be  trusted,  a  man  to  be  relied  on,  the  sort 
of  man,  so  to  speak,  one  would  like  (supposing  it 
were  possible)  to  marry?  Lionel  as  a  husband. 
...  "  Husband  "  brought  a  smile,  a  blush  and  a 
frown  to  the  face  of  Beatrice,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped 


182  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

that  the  shade  of  Lukos  noticed  the  blush  as  well 
as  the  smile.  "  Heavens !  and  I  have  only  known 
him  a  week!"  thought  Beatrice  with  self -chastise- 
ment :  "  besides  .  .  ."  Precisely !  There  are  so 
many  "  besideses  "  in  real  life. 

But  undoubtedly,  and  without  any  disloyalty  to 
shades,  living  or  otherwise,  he  was  the  dearest  of 
boys.  He  had  behaved  extraordinarily  well 
throughout  —  extraordinarily  well,  for  actresses 
have  unique  opportunities  of  studying  man's  weak- 
ness—  not  only  in  the  cab  and  the  dressing-room, 
but  during  the  week  of  voluntary  imprisonment. 
Polished,  controlled,  devoted  without  being  tire- 
some, he  was  certainly  the  dearest  of  boys.  Hu- 
man, too,  and  humanity  was  a  quality  that  appealed 
to  Beatrice;  nor  did  he  lack  a  sense  of  humor  and 
romance.  But  she  had  only  known  him  for  a  week, 
and  could  she  possibly  form  an  adequate  judgment 
in  such  a  period  ?  "  He  may  be  acting  all  the  time," 
she  thought  with  a  dismal  pucker  of  the  forehead, 
"  and  I  ought  to  know  how  easy  it  can  be  to  act. 
What  a  fool  I  am  to  worry  over  things !  " 

She  threw  away  the  half-smoked  cigarette  with 
a  petulant  gesture  and  continued  to  worry.     The 
remembrance  of  Mizzi  flashed  across  her  mind  - 
her   prettiness    and   Lionel's   evasive    declarations. 


RATHER  STAGY  183 

These  had  been  glib  enough,  no  doubt,  but  glibness 
and  dexterity  were  not  sufficient  to  lull  the  suspicions 
of  Beatrice.  "  He  is  a  man,"  she  argued  angrily, 
perversely  pleased  in  lashing  her  apprehensions, 
"  and  a  bachelor.  What  else  could  one  expect?  Of 
course,  he  may  not  have  kissed  her,  but  ...  If 
he  has,  well  .  .  .  what  right  have  I  to  .  .  ." 

Her  petulance  increased  with  every  moment,  and 
when  the  bell  rang  about  ten  o'clock  she  felt  more 
like  a  naughty  ill-tempered  child  than  anything 
else.  Remembering  that  now  she  had  no  maid,  she 
controlled  herself  and  opened  the  door.  Her  face 
cleared,  for  on  the  threshold  stood  a  man  she  liked, 
her  manager. 

"  Hullo,  Ashford !  "  she  said.  "  Come  in !  I'm 
glad  you've  come,  for  I'm  bored  to  tears." 

Ashford  Billing,  a  smartly-dressed  man  of  thirty- 
six,  entered.  One  would  hardly  have  guessed  him 
to  be  connected  with  the  stage,  for  he  had  a  mus- 
tache, was  well-groomed  without  over-emphasizing 
the  fact,  and  had  a  pleasant  look  of  self-reliance 
without  swagger.  He  was  tall  and  lean,  as  if  he 
was  accustomed  to  keep  himself  in  hard  condition, 
and  though  an  American  you  could  scarcely  have 
guessed  it  from  his  speech.  Four  years  in  England, 
during  which  time  he  had  studied  to  erase  transat- 


1 84  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

lantic  idioms  and  intonations  with  a  view  of  playing 
on  the  stage,  had  been  crowned  with  almost 
complete  success.  Only  a  stray  word,  a  phrase  oc- 
casionally, showed  that  he  was  not  a  native-born. 

"  It's  an  early  call,  Miss  Blair,"  he  said  pleas- 
antly as  he  followed  her  into  the  sitting-room. 
"  Partly  business  and  partly  pleasure.  Which  will 
you  have  first  ?" 

"  Oh,  pleasure,"  answered  Beatrice  carelessly : 
"  I'm  tired  of  business.  Will  you  smoke?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.  Well,  I'll  plunge  into  the  pleas- 
ure right  away,  though  there's  some  business  in  it, 
too.  You  know  I'm  not  the  man  to  beat  about  the 
bush,  so  I'll  ask  you  straight  out  if  you're  still  in  the 
same  mind  as  you  were  six  months  ago  ?  " 

Beatrice  made  an  irritated  movement  of  her  shoul- 
ders. 

"  Oh,  bother !  "  she  answered.  "  Fancy  calling  at 
this  hour  to  ask  me  that ! " 

"  Sorry,"  said  Ashford  Billing.  He  did  not  ap- 
pear at  all  excited,  though  his  eyes  gleamed.  "  My 
time's  hardly  my  own  just  now  —  working  day  and 
night  over  the  new  production,  provincial  tours  and 
syndicates.  And  you  never  seem  to  be  at  home  at 
reasonable  hours  —  I  called  twice  last  week,  but 
Mizzi  said  you  were  out." 


RATHER  STAGY  183 

Beatrice  blushed,  and  turned  to  the  window  to 
hide  the  blush.  She  remembered  her  instructions 
to  Mizzi. 

"  So  I  thought  I'd  come  now  on  the  off  chance," 
continued  Billing.  "  Dear  Miss  Blair,  I  may  not 
appear  romantic  or  in  earnest,  but  I  am.  I'm  a  plain 
man  and  want  to  marry  you.  You  refused  me  once, 
but  I  don't  like  giving  up  altogether.  Is  it  any 
good?" 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Beatrice  decisively.  "  Sorry, 
Ash  ford:  I  like  you  awfully,  but  not  that  way.  So 
you  must  take  that  as  final." 

"  I  will  for  the  present,"  he  answered,  looking 
gloomy  for  a  moment.  Then  he  brightened  up. 
"  But  at  the  risk  of  offending  I  warn  you  that  I 
mean  to  ask  you  again  later  on,  in  case  you  change 
your  mind.  In  the  American  dictionary  there's  no 
such  word  as  *  impossible.' ' 

Beatrice  was  roused  at  this. 

"Look  here,  Ash  ford!"  she  said,  biting  her  lip, 
"  don't  you  talk  to  me  like  that !  It's  no  good,  and 
I  won't  have  it!  You'll  make  me  lose  my  temper 
in  a  minute.  I've  never  encouraged  you,  though 
I've  always  been  fond  of  you  in  a  friendly  way." 

"  Then  still  there  may  — 

"  You've  as  much  chance,"   said  Beatrice,   with 


186  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

flashing  eyes,  "  as  a  bob-tailed  dog  in  fly  time ! 
There's  one  of  your  own  Americanisms  for  you, 
and  I  hope  you  like  it ! " 

Ashford  Billing  could  not  help  laughing,  though 
Beatrice  seemed  in  a  thoroughly  bad  temper. 

"  Say,  that's  fierce !  "  he  said,  relapsing.  "  Where 
did  you  hear  that  ?  "  Then  he  became  graver.  "But 
I  won't  worry  you  any  more.  I'm  sorry  .  .  .  but 
I  guess  I'll  study  to  improve  my  manners." 

"  Let's  get  to  business,"  said  Beatrice,  sitting 
down.  "  I'm  tired  to  death  of  this.  What  is  it 
you  want  ?  " 

"  Well,"  he  said,  following  her  example,  "  I  came 
here  for  two  things.  The  first  was  to  ask  you  to 
be  my  —  oh,  yes !  good  enough !  I  know  that's  a 
back  number  now.  For  the  present,  anyway.  If 
that  didn't  materialize  I  wanted  to  know  if  you'd 
care  to  tour  the  provinces  in  A  False  Step.  You 
know  we  close  down  in  a  week,  and  I'm  going  to 
start  the  tour  —  number  one  towns  only  —  in  the 
autumn." 

Beatrice  shook  her  head. 

"  No ;  I'm  going  to  take  a  rest." 

"  You'll  have  lots  of  time  to  take  a  rest  before 
the  tour  starts.  Why  not " 

"Look  here,  Ashford!     You  seem  to  think  that 


RATHER  STAGY  187 

I  don't  know  my  own  mind  in  anything.  I've  al- 
ready refused  your  offer  for  a  London  shop,  and  I 
don't  mean  to  think  about  the  provinces.  See?  I 
won't  be  worried  any  more  —  I'm " 

She  paused  and  suddenly  burst  into  tears,  hiding 
her  face  in  her  hands.  Ashford  Billing,  long  ac- 
customed to  the  vagaries  of  leading  ladies  and 
hardened  in  a  rough  school,  was  completely  taken 
aback.  He  had  known  Beatrice  for  a  fine  actress 
and  a  finer  woman  —  a  woman  who  had  charm, 
good  looks  and  character.  To  see  her  break  down 
for  no  apparent  reason  was  not  merely  distressing 
—  it  was  a  shock. 

"  Say,  little  girl,"  he  said  kindly  —  and  there  was 
no  hint  of  disrespect,  though  on  other  occasions  he 
was  scrupulous  in  his  use  of  "  Miss  Blair  " — "  I'm 
real  sorry.  I  didn't  know  you'd  feel  bad  about  it. 
What's  the  trouble?  Can  I  be  of  any  help?" 

Beatrice  recovered  herself,  feeling  extremely 
ashamed. 

"  It's  only  nerves,"  she  replied,  drying  her  eyes 
with  vicious  dabs.  "  I  didn't  sleep  last  night.  That's 
all.  Give  me  a  cigarette." 

Billing  opened  his  case  and  gave  her  one,  looking 
gravely  at  her.  There  was  something  behind  this, 
he  thought,  but  what  it  was  he  could  not  guess. 


i88  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  I  won't  worry  you  any  more,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  I'd  have  liked  to  book  you  for  that  tour,  but  I 
guess  you  know  best.  You've  had  a  tiring  season 
—  long  runs  are  the  very  deuce,  though  they  pay 
the  manager.  You  take  that  rest  you  talk  of  and 
make  it  a  good  one.  But  let  me  know  when  you 
feel  like  getting  to  work  again." 

"  Thanks,  Ash  ford,"  said  Beatrice,  smoking 
quickly.  "  You're  a  good  sort.  But,  honestly,  I'm 
thinking  of  giving  up  the  stage  altogether.  I'm 
getting  sick  of  it." 

Billing,  who  had  had  the  kudos  of  giving  Beatrice 
her  first  chance,  felt  his  heart  sink.  But,  realizing 
that  this  was  not  the  time  to  urge  mature  reflection, 
he  held  his  peace.  Beatrice  talked  idly  a  few  min- 
utes, trying  to  appear  natural,  but  the  effort  was 
great. 

"Where  are  you  going  for  a  holiday?"  she 
asked. 

"  Flying,"  he  answered.  "  Across  the  channel, 
perhaps.  I've  never  done  it  yet." 

"  What  a  queer  boy  you  are,"  she  said,  looking 
at  him  fixedly.  "  Wrhat  on  earth  made  you  take 
to  the  aeroplane  ?  " 

"Why  on   earth   did  I   take  to  the  sky?"   he 


RATHER  STAGY  189 

laughed.  "  I  did  it  to  advertise  my  first  produc- 
tion over  here.  It  was  the  right  goods,  too,  for 
every  one  talked  about  the  actor-manager-airman. 
When  I  found  how  exciting  it  was,  I  couldn't  stop. 
That's  all." 

"  You're  odd  creatures,  you  men,"  said  Beatrice, 
musing.  "  I  should  have  thought  that  managing 
theaters  was  exciting  enough." 

"  Change  of  excitement  —  just  like  falling  in  love 
with  a  new  sweetheart,"  he  smiled. 

"  Ah !  that  sounds  like  a  man !  Tell  me,  Ash- 
ford,  do  all  men  run  after  every  pretty  face  they 
see?" 

"  You  want  me  to  give  away  trade  secrets,  eh  ? 
Well,  I  suppose  most  men  do  ...  until  they're 
hooked." 

"Ashford!    Hooked!     How  loathsome !" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ...  I  was  thinking  as  a 
cynical  bachelor.  What  I  mean  is  that  I  suppose 
most  men  swear  off  the  pursuit  once  they've  prom- 
ised." 

"  And  never  relapse  ?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  The  decent  ones  don't,  but  even  they  sometimes 
have  a  bit  of  a  struggle.  Take  an  extreme  case: 


190  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

suppose  a  decent  chap  gets  engaged,  and  force  of 
circumstances  keeps  him  apart  from  his  divinity  for 
.  .  .  years  .  .  ." 

"  He  ought  to  feel  bound  in  honor  not  even  to 
think  of  another !  "  flashed  Beatrice. 

Billing  sighed. 

"  He  ought,  but  he's  up  against  a  tough  proposi- 
tion. At  least,  the  decent  one  tries  .  .  ." 

"  Men  are  horrible,"  she  said  wearily. 

"  Pretty  horrible,"  he  agreed,  "  but  there's  an 
amazing  lot  of  unseen  goodness  hidden  in  the  dirt. 
.  .  .  Men  aren't  so  bad  .  .  .  some  men.  But  we're 
getfing  too  serious.  I  must  be  off.  It's  been  a  bad 
morning's  work  for  me."  He  smiled  —  not  very 
whole-heartedly,  but  still  he  smiled.  "  You  refuse 
both  my  offers.  But  you'll  let  me  know  if  I  can 
ever  do  anything,  won't  you?  That's  merely 
friendly." 

Beatrice  did  not  smile,  but  she  looked  appre- 
ciatively at  him. 

"Thanks,  Ashford,"  she  said.  "Yes;  I've  just 
remembered  one  thing  you  can  do.  Read  a  play  by 
a  friend  of  mine." 

He  groaned  in  comic  despair. 

"  All  right!  "  he  said,  "  but  don't  make  me  prom- 
ise to  produce  it.  Remember  this  is  my  living!  " 


RATHER  STAGY  191 

"No;  I  only  want  you  to  read  it.  If  it's  bad, 
say  so  like  a  man:  don't  put  the  poor  wretch  off 
with  the  usual  sugary  criticism.  And  don't  let  it 
lie  for  months  with  all  the  rest  of  the  lumber.  You 
managers  are  cruel  to  authors,  and  you've  had  this 
one  lying  idle  a  long  time." 

He  did  not  deny  the  charge,  save  by  a  smile. 

"  I'll  read  it  this  week,  sure,"  he  said.  "  What's 
it  called,  and  who's  the  author  ?  " 

"  I  forget  the  name  of  the  play.  The  author  is 
a  Mr.  Mortimer." 

She  said  the  name  quite  easily  and  without  a 
blush,  but  Billing  on  the  instant  thought,  "  Who  the 
devil  is  he?  And  what  does  she  want  to  push  his 
play  for?"  But  he  did  not  allow  his  face  even  to 
hint  at  surprise.  He  just  held  out  his  hand  and 
said  good-by,  as  naturally  as  if  he  had  not  been  re- 
jected without  any  hope  of  a  future  recantation. 
For  though  he  professed  optimism,  in  his  heart  he 
felt  that  Beatrice  was  not  for  him,  and  the  knowl- 
edge hurt. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said  cheerily.  "  Mind  you  have 
a  good  holiday,  and  come  back  to  work  soon." 

"  Good-by,  Ashford,"  she  said,  trying  to  keep 
back  some  unnecessary  tears.  She  had  known  him 
for  some  time  and  guessed  what  he  was  thinking. 


192  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

He,  she  was  sure,  was  at  least  one  of  the  men  who 
tried.     "  You're  a  good  sort.     Good-by." 

Then  she  telephoned  to  a  garage :     "  I  want  my 
car  at  two  o'clock !  " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A   RISE  IN    THE   WORLD 

THE  HAPPY  HEART  was  an  ideal  resting- 
place  for  a  tired  man,  whether  town  or 
country-bred.  To  the  former  it  made  the  stronger 
appeal,  for  there  could  be  no  greater  contrast  than 
between  The  Happy  Heart  and  the  flaring  brazen 
public-houses  which  offer  solace  to  the  dwellers  of 
the  pavement.  These  attract  by  their  fierce  pledges 
of  light,  warmth  and  the  stimulated  oblivion  of  the 
moment;  The  Happy  Heart  draws  the  heart-strings 
alike  of  the  physically  tired  and  mentally  jaded. 
Apart  from  the  promise  of  good  liquor  —  and  all 
who  go  to  Shereling  can  rely  on  the  promise  being 
fulfilled  —  it  makes  an  esthetic  appeal.  For  it  is 
still  an  old-fashioned  country  tavern  of  the  prettiest 
type,  destined  to  make  even  the  total  abstainer  won- 
der whether  he  be  so  absolutely  in  the  right  after 
all.  It  boasts  a  porch,  over  which  a  Virginia  creeper 
spreads  its  amorous  leaves ;  rose-bushes  waft  a  wel- 
come and  the  sure  hope  of  peace  to  plowman  or 

golfer  after  the  day's  striving.    A  meditative  cow, 

J93 


194  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

apparently  an  artistic  fixture,  chews  the  cud  in  a 
field  hard  by  from  day  to  day.  Smoke  curls  lazily 
from  a  huge  and  ancient  chimney,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  Be  of  good  cheer !  I  come  from  the 
kitchen ! "  And  there  is,  too,  one  of  those  sign- 
posts you  see  sometimes  in  the  south, —  a  pillar 
placed  separate  from  the  inn  itself  with  a  swinging 
board  above.  The  superscription,  by  the  way,  was 
due  to  the  fancy  of  the  squire's  wife.  When  the 
squire  entered  into  his  inheritance  and  married  he 
had  had  dreams.  He  wished  to  be  like  Dogberry 
and  have  everything  handsome  about  him.  His 
wife,  a  pretty  imaginative  creature,  had  imbued  him 
with  ideas  for  the  betterment  of  his  dependents,  and 
he  had  tried  to  fulfil  her  wishes.  He  inclined  to 
the  practical  side,  and  to  him  was  due  at  least  half 
the  credit  for  the  improved  housing  and  sanitation 
of  Shereling.  She,  practical  enough,  thought  that 
estheticism  should  show  an  equal  growth;  and  to 
her  shade  the  visitor  does  reverence  when  he  admires 
the  profuse  planting  of  trees,  the  village  library 
with  its  good  pictures,  the  addition  of  a  tower  to 
the  church,  and  a  fine  organ.  Last,  but  not  least, 
she  persuaded  her  husband  to  have  the  inn  called  The 
Happy  Heart,  instead  of  The  Bull  and  Dog. 
In  this  desirable  residence  Tony  and  Robert  Hed- 


A  RISE  IN  THE  WORLD  195 

derwick  sat  at  two  o'clock,  enjoying  their  cigars 
after  a  copious  lunch.  Robert  had  slept  the  whole 
morning,  and  now  felt  a  new  man.  Tony  was  tired, 
but  disinclined  for  bed, —  there  had  been  too  much 
to  interest  him  up  to  the  present,  and  he  felt  there 
might  be  more  to  come.  This  was  such  a  new  sen- 
sation that  he  had  no  trouble  in  propping  his  eyelids 
till  the  evening,  and  he  listened  with  zest  while  Rob- 
ert prattled  cheerfully  of  his  incredible  adventures. 
They  had,  of  course,  agreed  to  work  as  partners,  so 
long  as  tedium  kept  away:  they  were  mutually  at- 
tracted, and  already  more  than  friendly.  Confi- 
dences had  been  exchanged:  Tony  had  repeated  to 
the  envious  churchwarden  some  of  the  tamer  epi- 
sodes of  his  dilettante  existence;  Robert  had  tried 
to  cap  them  with  his  burglars  and  Alicia. 

"  But  you  ought  to  let  your  wife  know  some- 
thing," suggested  Tony.  "  She  may  be  worrying." 

The  churchwarden  looked  a  little  uneasy.  "If 
I  write  I  might  be  traced  by  the  postmark,"  he  ob- 
jected. "  I  suppose  I  might  send  a  letter  saying 
I'm  all  right  to  a  friend,  and  get  him  to  readdress 
it.  But  even  then  there's  a  danger  .  .  ." 

'''  There's  danger  any  way,"  said  Tony,  smoking 
thoughtfully.  "  From  what  you  tell  me,  I  should 
think  Mrs.  Hedderick  would  not  hesitate  to  use  de- 


[196  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

tectives  if  she  thought  it  necessary.  I  should  hardly 
think  it  would  be  long  before  they  picked  up  your 
trail,  unless  you  communicate  with  her.  Really,  you 

know "     He  broke  off  suddenly  and  laughed. 

"  No  I  don't  write ;  I've  got  a  better  plan.  I  won't 
tell  you  now,  but  keep  it  for  a  little  —  till  a  dull 
hour  comes  and  we  are  hard  up  for  something  to 
do." 

Robert,  naturally  curious,  begged  for  enlighten- 
ment, but  Tony  was  adamant.  Changing  his 
ground,  he  declared  that  there  was  no  hurry  for 
a  day  or  two, —  or  at  least  for  a  few  hours.  Mrs. 
Hedderwick  would  probably  take  a  couple  of  days 
to  make  up  her  mind  to  use  the  police,  and  mean- 
while they  were  better  employed  in  seizing  the  thrills 
of  the  moment.  Tony  got  his  way,  of  course :  he 
was  accustomed  to  lead  and  exact  obedience.  Per- 
sonality and  class-consciousness,  coupled  with  a  hu- 
mor that  appealed  to  his  victims,  made  the  task 
easy. 

"  I  haven't  told  you  yet,"  said  he,  after  silencing 
Robert's  objections,  "  what  I  did  with  my  morning. 
Well,  I  looked  round  and  got  the  general  hang  of 
the  village.  More,  I  followed  our  mysterious  friend 
—  let's  call  him  Billy, —  and  from  a  distance  saw 
him  enter  The  Quiet  House.  (Queer  place  that,  by 


A  RISE  IN  THE  WORLD  197 

the  way.  Surrounded  by  a  brick  wall  ten  feet  high, 
—  couldn't  get  a  glimpse  inside  except  through  a 
gate.)  The  landlord  tells  me  that  he  hasn't  booked 
a  bed  here,  so  it  looks  either  as  if  he  meant  to  leave 
Shereling  or  stay  at  The  Quiet  House." 

"  A  good  job,  too,"  commented  Robert.  "  It 
wouldn't  do  for  him  to  see  me.  Of  course  I  should 
be  recognized  at  once,  and  that  would  make  him 
suspicious." 

"Quite  so,"  agreed  Tony.  "If  he  hung  about 
here  you'd  have  to  stay  in  bed  all  day, —  rather  a 
depressing  prospect  when  fun  is  promised.  But  if 
I  were  you  I'd  give  a  false  name  to  the  landlord. 
If  Billy  heard  of  Mr.  Hedderwick  it  would  make 
him  think  of  things." 

Robert  had  an  instinctive  repugnance  to  the  plan. 
In  some  obscure  way  it  savored  of  criminality,  and 
the  shackles  of  convention  were  still  not  wholly 
broken.  But  in  the  end  Tony  again  triumphed,  and 
the  blameless  Hedderwick  was  dubbed  Bangs.  He 
did  not  particularly  care  for  the  choice ;  but  as  Tony 
said  he  looked  the  perfect  essential  Bangs  and  that 
any  other  name  would  be  unthinkable,  Robert  gave 
way. 

"  Oh,  and  I  saw  some  one  else,"  continued  Tony 
when  the  point  was  settled.  "  A  remarkably  pretty 


198  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

girl.  She,  too,  entered  The  Quiet  House  —  some 
time  after  Billy.  I  had  seen  him  safely  in,  and  was 
waiting  by  the  roadside  when  she  came  along.  She 
snubbed  me  —  quite  properly, —  but  was  kindly 
careless  enough  to  drop  a  card.  It  bore  the  name 
of  Miss  Arkwright,  who,  I  understand,  owns  The 
Quiet  House.  But  somehow  I  don't  feel  sure  that 
the  card  is  hers." 

"Why?" 

"  Dunno,"  said  Tony  with  a  dissatisfied  air.  "  I 
haven't  any  reasonable  evidence.  A  kind  of  intui- 
tion, I  suppose,  more  than  anything  else.  Somehow 
she  doesn't  look  an  Arkwright, —  she  hasn't  got  an 
Arkwright  personality.  Now,  you  simply  exude 
Bangs  at  every  pore, —  you're  all  right." 

"What  was  she  like?" 

"  Bangs  being  a  respectable  married  man,  mere 
good  looks  have  no  interest  for  him."  ("  Oh,  but 
they  have!"  interrupted  Robert  with  a  naif  eager- 
ness.) "Well,  they  oughtn't  to,  then.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  she  was  deucedly  pretty,  and  —  good 
lord!" 

He  broke  off  and  jumped  to  his  feet  in  a  listen- 
ing attitude.  Robert  did  the  same,  for  in  the  porch 
they  heard  the  voice  of  Lionel  —  or  "  Billy,"  as  they 
had  named  their  anonymous  friend  —  in  conversa- 


A  RISE  IN  THE  WORLD  199 

tion  with  the  landlord.  The  two  men  were  dis- 
cussing the  weather,  and  Tony  and  his  partner 
looked  frantically  at  each  other  for  a  plan.  In  an- 
other minute  Lionel  might  enter  the  parlor,  and 
there  was  no  escape.  The  door  was  but  a  yard  dis- 
tant from  the  porch :  the  window  opened  on  the 
road.  To  leave  the  room  by  either  egress  might 
mean  discovery,  and  for  Robert  to  be  recognized 
by  Lionel  would  ruin  all.  That  is,  it  might  ef- 
fectively put  an  end  to  the  development  of  the  ad- 
venture, for  if  "  Billy's  "  suspicions  were  awakened 
he  might  take  the  first  train  back  to  town.  At  least 
he  would  be  put  on  his  guard,  and  that  would  make 
things  more  difficult  than  ever.  It  was  imperative 
that  Robert  should  be  hidden  from  sight.  But 
where  ?  He  could  not  be  concealed  under  the  table, 
for  no  cloth  lay  upon  it,  drooping  decorously  over 
the  edges.  There  was  no  cupboard  large  enough 
to  contain  the  bulk  of  Bangs.  No  friendly  screen, 
the  time-honored  refuge  of  the  dramatist,  stood  in 
any  corner.  No  Falstaffian  basket  was  there  to 
promise  aid.  The  room  was  a  Sahara  in  view  of 
the  unhappy  arrival  of  "  Billy,"  and  beads  of  perspi- 
ration stood  out  on  Robert's  brow  as  he  waited, 
without  a  plan,  helpless  as  a  trapped  rabbit. 

Tony's  friends  used  sometimes  to  complain  that 


200  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

he  put  them  in  impossible  situations.  The  charge 
was  not  unjust;  but,  as  Tony  would  point  out  when 
accused,  he  was  equally  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  if 
circumstances  demanded  it.  It  was  unfortunate,  no 
doubt,  that  Fate  seemed  to  prefer  the  immolation  of 
a  friend,  but  that  was  not  his  fault, —  it  was  Fate 
who  should  be  reviled.  This  was  an  occasion  call- 
ing for  presence  of  mind,  resource  and  unflinching 
discipline.  If  the  adventure  of  his  life  was  to  be 
carried  through  successfully,  no  minor  considera- 
tions —  such  as  friendship  or  soot  —  could  be  al- 
lowed to  weigh.  With  a  strong  gesture  he  pointed 
to  the  old-fashioned  hearth  and  capacious  chimney. 
"  Up  you  go !  "  he  whispered.  "  Look  sharp !  " 

Robert  recoiled.  "  No !  no ! "  he  whispered 
piteously.  "  Not  that !  Surely  - 

He  was  not  allowed  to  argue.  In  another  mo- 
ment Robert  felt  himself  led,  as  in  a  dream,  to  the 
fireplace.  The  next,  and  he  had  a  foot  upon  the 
massive  iron  bars.  Luckily  there  was  no  fire  laid, 
no  coal  to  disturb  and  proclaim  his  bid  for  obscurity. 
He  looked  up  into  the  cavernous  darkness  and 
groaned  in  spirit;  that  was  the  first  time  he  regret- 
ted his  mad  flight.  Then,  helping  himself  by  pro- 
jecting bricks,  searching  for  insecure  crevices  with 


A  RISE  IN  THE  WORLD  201 

his  toes,  he  began  to  climb  the  few  feet  necessary 
to  safety. 

By  the  time  his  ankles  were  the  only  visible  evi- 
dence the  hearth  was  covered  with  soot,  and  Tony 
looked  anxiously  round  for  something  to  remove  it. 
As  chance  would  have  it,  a  broom  stood  in  the  cor- 
ner of  the  parlor,  left  there  by  a  careless  servant 
after  the  morning's  tidy-up.  Triumph  in  his  eye, 
Tony  seized  it  and  approached  the  hearth.  But  on 
getting  there  his  purpose  changed;  temptation  was 
too  strong.  Pushing  the  broom  up  the  chimney, 
he  used  it  as  one  uses  a  ramrod,  helping  the  mur- 
murous Robert  in  his  upward  path.  "  Excelsior, 
old  friend !  "  whispered  Tony,  for  an  ankle  could 
still  be  seen.  "  Excelsior ! "  and  he  thrust  with 
frenzy.  The  only  response  was  a  muffled  sound 
that  floated  down,  a  subdued  kind  of  blasphemous 
choke.  It  filtered  into  the  parlor  as  "  Orpgh,"  but 
Tony  did  not  relax  his  efforts  till  the  ankle  had  dis- 
appeared. 'The  next  moment  Lionel  entered  the 
room,  followed  by  the  landlord.  The  latter  gave  an 
astonished  grunt  as  he  surveyed  Tony,  hands  and 
face  smudged  like  a  Christy  Minstrel,  and  even 
Lionel's  breeding  found  it  hard  to  restrain  a  laugh. 

"  There  has  been  a  fall  of  soot,  Mr.  Glew,"  ob- 


202  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

served  Tony  blandly.  "  I  found  this  broom,  and 
was  just  going " 

"  Lor',  sir,  don't  you  trouble,"  said  Glew,  scan- 
dalized that  a  guest  could  so  demean  himself.  "  The 
servant'll  do  that  presently.  I  was  just  saying 
to  the  missus  a  week  ago  come  Thursday  that  we 
should  'ave  to  get  our  chimneys  cleaned  soon. 
We'll  'ave  to  set  about  it  in  earnest  now,  and  no 
mistake." 

"  I  suppose  you  send  over  to  Dallingham  for  a 
sweep  ?  "  suggested  Lionel,  sitting  down.  The  land- 
lord chuckled. 

"  Yes,  sir,  when  the  squire's  at  'ome.  'E  makes 
us.  But  when  'e's  abroad,  why,  we  do  the  old- 
fashioned  way  —  light  a  batten  of  straw  and  burn 
the  flue  clear." 

A  slight  scuffle  proceeding  from  the  chimney 
seemed  to  hint  that  Mr.  Bangs  had  heard.  Could 
it  be  that  he  feared  lest  they  were  going  to 
clean  the  flue  in  the  old-fashioned  way  now,  or  was 
he  merely  suffering  from  cramp?  Whichever  it 
was,  he  shifted:  the  noise  was  unmistakable,  and 
the  fall  of  more  soot  made  the  landlord  shake  his 
head. 

"  I  doubt  there's  a  bird  got  down  the  chimney," 
he  said,  scratching  his  chin.  "  Those  jackdaws  or 


A  RISE  IN  THE  WORLD  203 

young  rooks  do  sometimes.  Give  me  the  broom,  sir, 
and  I'll  soon  have  him  down." 

Tony's  hand  tightened  on  the  broom. 

"  Let  me,"  he  said  suavely.  "  There's  no  need 
for  two  people  to  get  black."  Without  waiting  for 
a  reply  he  approached  the  fireplace  and  thrust  his 
weapon  strenuously  aloft.  It  was  no  time  for  half 
measures,  and  Tony  felt  obliged  to  be  as  realistic 
as  possible  in  the  interests  of  his  friend.  Realism, 
however,  may  be  carried  to  excess  (as  Mr.  Bangs 
pointed  out  later  with  no  little  heat),  and  the  flut- 
tering of  the  mythical  bird  would  have  drawn  tears 
to  the  eyes  of  humanitarians. 

"  It's  no  good,  sir,"  said  the  landlord,  dismally 
observing  the  soot ;  "  it's  out  o'  reach.  I  fancy  I'd 
better  get  that  straw  and  ha'  done  with  it." 

1  That's  rather  too  cruel,  landlord,"  said  Lionel 
from  his  seat.  "  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  smother- 
ing the  poor  beast." 

"  Put  it  this  way,  sir,"  said  Glew,  who  was  an 
amiable  fellow ;  "  is  it  better  to  smother  it  or  leave 
it  there  to  starve?  My  way  'ud  take  five  minutes 
—  yours  a  couple  o'  days.  Well,  sir?" 

"  I  suppose  you're  right,"  said  the  soft-hearted 
Lionel,  "but  I  don't  half  like " 

"  Don't  you  worry,"  struck  in  Tony,  who  was  be- 


204  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ginning  to  get  anxious.  "  I  tell  you  what !  It's  a 
big  chimney  and  I'm  pretty  slim.  If  you'll  let  me 
go  up  to-night  after  the  pub's  closed,  Mr.  Glew,  I'll 
strip  and  climb.  Of  course  we  mustn't  leave  it 
there,  and  smothering  doesn't  appeal  to  me." 

"  You're  a  decent  chap,"  said  Lionel,  moved  to 
admiration.  Tony  modestly  murmured  "  Not  at 
all,"  and  hoped  the  landlord  was  satisfied.  But  he 
was  not.  The  very  ideer!  One  o'  his  guests 
a-climbin'  the  chimney!  No!  he'd  send  the  boy  up. 
Hi! 

Things  were  now  looking  very  black  in  more  than 
one  sense,  and  the  disciple  of  romance  in  the  chim- 
ney had  serious  thoughts  of  a  descent.  But  as  the 
landlord  opened  his  mouth  to  bellow  for  the  boy, 
the  man  from  up-stairs — "Mr.  Beckett" — passed 
the  door  with  his  golf-clubs  slung  over  his  shoulder. 
He  looked  in  and  said,  "  I'm  going  up  to  the  links, 
Mr.  Glew.  Dinner  at  seven-thirty,  please,"  in  a 
polished  voice  that  carried  a  hint  of  an  alien  accent. 
Then  he  went  on. 

Lionel  determined  to  follow.  He  had  been  to 
The  Quiet  House  that  morning  and  had  learned 
that  Miss  Arkwright  was  away.  She  would  be  back, 
however,  about  four.  The  door  had  been  answered 
by  the  dumb  footman  spoken  of  by  the  vicar,  who 


A  RISE  IN  THE  WORLD  205 

had  exhibited  one  of  those  dials  that  stand  on  hall 
tables  —  "  Out  —  in  at  .  .  ."  So  Lionel  had  come 
back,  meaning  to  kill  a  couple  of  hours  at  the  inn. 
But  when  he  saw  the  man  "  Beckett "  it  struck  him 
that  he  might  as  well  waste  those  hours  on  the  links. 
He  might  possibly  get  into  conversation  with  this 
man,  whom  he  felt  sure  was  the  Turkish  ambassa- 
dor. Every  thing  pointed  to  it, —  the  newspaper 
paragraph  —  the  accent  —  the  assumed  name  (for 
he  had  confessed  it  to  the  vicar)  — the  age.  Sup- 
posing this  to  be  so,  he  might  be  worth  watching. 
If  Beatrice  were  right  in  her  suspicions  and  con- 
jectures, it  was  quite  possible  Mizzi  would  follow 
him  to  Shereling  and  seek  an  interview.  Mizzi, 
in  point  of  fact  might  have  already  made  an 
assignation  — •  she  might  even  be  waiting  on  the 
links!  Supposing  he  found  them  .  .  .  well,  at 
least  he  would  have  verified  suspicions,  and  could 
chart  his  course  by  certain  knowledge.  Yes,  he 
would  follow  on  the  off  chance. 

He  did  not  take  as  long  to  make  up  his  mind 
as  we  have  taken  to  describe  it.  The  reader,  if 
kindly-hearted,  should  be  glad  of  this;  for  mean- 
while the  unhappy  Bangs  has  risked  exceeding  the 
proverbial  allowance  of  "  a  peck  of  dirt "  to  be 
swallowed  in  a  lifetime.  Lionel,  then,  went  out, 


2o6  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

leaving  Tony  to  deal  with  the  landlord.  He  sighed 
with  relief,  for  at  least  the  most  important  character 
had  disappeared. 

"  Mr.  Glew,"  he  said  winningly,  "  I  have  a  little 
surprise  for  you.  May  I  close  the  door  for  a  mo- 
ment?" 

"  Cert'n'y,  sir,"  said  the  other,  staring.  His  bo- 
vine gaze  followed  Tony  as  he  walked  to  the  fire- 
place, stooped  down,  and  said  gently,  "  Come,  birdie, 
come!" — a  song  of  his  childhood  flitting  suddenly 
across  his  brain.  To  make  his  meaning  perfectly 
clear,  he  added,  "  It's  all  right,  Bangs.  You  may 
get  down  from  the  table !  "  Then  he  discreetly  re- 
tired a  few  paces  and  waited.  He  had  not  to  wait 
long. 

"  Mygoard!"  said  the  landlord  explosively,  and 
indeed  there  was  excuse  for  the  expression.  It  was 
caused  by  the  extraordinary  entrance  of  Mr.  Bangs. 
He  clambered  down  painfully  for  a  few  feet,  but 
just  as  he  reached  the  bottom  his  foot  slipped  and 
he  sat  down  emphatically,  facing  them,  in  the  grate. 
The  appearance  of  this  gnome,  silent,  save  for  a 
strange  wheezing  that  rasped  its  way  through  a  soot- 
slaked  windpipe,  baffled  description.  Tony  looked 
at  the  figure  with  a  mournful  compassion,  and  the 
landlord  rocked  drunkenly  against  the  door. 


A  RISE  IN  THE  WORLD  207 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Glew,"  said  Tony  soothingly,  "  it 
happened  like  this.  My  friend  —  who,  I  am  sure, 
will  corroborate  me  as  soon  as  he  has  had  a  drink, 
—  my  friend  and  I  had  a  dispute  about  chimneys. 
He  averred  that  they  often  concealed  a  'priest's 
hole,'  —  one  of  those  hiding-places  for  Popish  priests 
we  read  about.  I  disagreed,  and  our  dispute  became 
so  heated  that  we  even  staked  money  —  Mr.  Bangs, 
on  the  probable  existence  of  such  a  chamber  here, 
I  on  the  negative  side.  He  is  an  enthusiast,  and 
nothing  would  content  him  but  the  immediate  settle- 
ment of  the  question.  So,  despite  my  protests,  up 
he  climbed.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  descend,  you 
and  the  other  gentleman  entered.  Conceive  the  posi- 
tion! He  naturally  had  no  wish  to  be  discovered 
in  such  a  situation,  and  waited,  hoping  the  parlor 
would  soon  be  empty.  Your  suggestion  of  the  bat- 
ten upset  all  calculations.  Now,  I  am  sure  you  will 
spare  his  feelings  and  say  nothing  of  this.  All  he 
requires  is  a  hot  bath.  You  quite  understand  ?  " 

The  landlord  gave  a  crow  of  assent.  But  as  he 
went  down  the  passage  a  deep  rumbling,  suppressed 
but  distinct,  betokened  that  he  could  not  regard  the 
situation  seriously.  When  the  door  was  closed 
Tony  turned  apologetically  to  his  companion-in- 
arms. 


208  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Awfully  sorry,  old  chap,"  he  said,  "  but  it  was 
one  of  those  things  that  had  to  be.  You  quite  see 
that,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Krwxl"  said  the  gnome,  weeping.  "  Krwxl 
airp  —  krwxl " 


CHAPTER  XV 

A    CHANGE  OF   LODGING 

AT  the  club-house  Lionel  put  his  name  down  for 
a  week's  membership,  thinking  it  might  be 
useful.  He  learned  from  the  local  professional  in 
the  course  of  a  short  chat  that  there  were  only  some 
half-dozen  players  out  that  afternoon,  all  being  men. 
Mizzi,  therefore,  had  not  assumed  the  disguise  of  a 
golfer,  though  she  might  be  waiting  somewhere  on 
the  horizon  at  an  appointed  trysting-place.  The 
ambassador  drove  from  the  first  tee  while  they  were 
talking:  he  was  playing  a  solitary  game  against 
bogey,  who  —  judging  from  the  first  three  shots 
• —  appeared  likely  to  win.  The  fact  that  he  did  not 
take  a  caddy  might  mean  anything  —  a  sense  of 
shame  or  an  expected  meeting  with  Mizzi.  Lionel, 
that  he  might  have  a  reasonable  excuse  for  keeping 
him  under  observation,  borrowed  some  clubs  from 
the  pro.  on  the  plea  that  his  own  had  not  yet  ar- 
rived, He  had  not  played  golf  for  years,  but 

truited  that  some  of  his  ancient  skill  might  still  re« 

flop 


210  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

main, —  enough,  at  least,  to  justify  his  appearance 
on  the  links. 

The  scheme,  however,  produced  little,  for  there 
was  no  sign  of  Mizzi.  Lionel  played  slowly,  keep- 
ing a  methodical  hole  behind  all  the  way.  At  the 
fifteenth,  however,  he  caught  up  with  his  quarry. 
In  a  moment  of  ill-judged  enthusiasm,  and  fired  by 
the  thrill  of  a  superlative  brassie-shot,  he  went  all 
out  for  his  third.  It  was  a  long  hole  —  bogey  five 
—  and  there  was  a  deep  bunker  guarding  the  green. 
Lionel,  after  some  consideration,  took  the  mashie 
in  preference  to  the  iron.  It  was  a  mistake,  for  the 
green  was  farther  than  he  thought.  He  made  a 
beautiful  full  shot  that  flew  straight  but  fell  short, 
deep  in  the  heart  of  the  bunker.  "Spoilt  it!" 
thought  Lionel  with  natural  melancholy.  "  Ah ! 
well !  Not  so  bad,  considering  I  haven't  played  for 
so  long." 

As  he  walked  on  he  remembered  with  a  pang  that 
he  had  forgotten  the  ambassador.  In  the  pleasure 
excited  by  a  perfect  drive,  a  perfect  brassie-shot,  and 
an  ill-fated,  ill-judged,  but  clean  full  mashie,  he  had 
lost  sight  of  the  other's  existence.  Now  he  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  "Confound  it!"  thought  Li- 
onel uneasily ;  "  what  a  kid  I  am  to  get  carried  away 


211 

by  the  game !  Has  he  holed  out  and  gone  on,  or 
is  he  by  any  chance  in  that  bunker  ?  " 

He  hurried  forward,  now  thinking  only  of  the 
chase;  and  as  he  drew  nearer  he  heard  curious 
sounds  proceeding  from  the  grave  of  so  many  hopes. 
Voluble,  emphatic  and  distinct  utterance  in  an 
alien  tongue  floated  through  the  abashed  ether,  and 
with  a  sigh  of  relief  Lionel  approached  and  stood 
on  the  brink  of  the  pit. 

It  was  a  deep  sandy  hollow,  shored  up  on  the 
farther  side  with  stout  banks  of  timber,  and  at 
the  bottom  stood  the  ambassador  cursing  his  ball. 
So  intent  was  he  on  this  futile  but  human  act,  that 
he  did  not  observe  his  audience  above.  Lionel 
stood  and  watched,  not  ill-pleased  that  an  aged  ar- 
biter of  the  peace  of  nations  could  on  occasion  show 
some  feeling,  real  if  regrettable.  Presently  the  ex- 
asperated diplomat  ceased  his  objurgations,  swung 
his  niblick  once  more  and  tried  to  get  out.  He 
struck  once  and  the  ball  bounded  heartily  against 
the  timbers,  falling  back  at  his  very  feet.  He  smote 
again  and  a  shower  of  stinging  sand  whipped 
sharply  in  his  face.  "  Wheel "  he  said  distinctly, 
and  Lionel's  cheek  tingled  in  sympathy.  He  swung 
a  third  time  and  with  neat  precision  played  a  flint- 
stone  well  on  the  green,  laying  it  dead.  Being  a 


212  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

man  of  obvious  determination,  though  limited  skill, 
he  tried  again,  and  yet  once  more.  Then,  with  un- 
couth barbaric  cries,  which  Lionel  rightly  guessed 
to  be  in  the  Turkish  language,  he  lashed  flail-wise 
at  the  ball.  It  rolled,  leaped,  hopped  —  grew  vivid 
with  excitement,  but  still  it  never  left  the  bunker. 

He  gave  it  up  at  last.  This  cunning  diplomat, 
this  indomitable  statesman,  was  obliged  to  own  him- 
self defeated.  Picking  up  the  ball,  he  deliberately 
took  a  knife  from  his  pocket  and  tried  to  cut  it  in 
half.  This  proving  impossible,  he  flung  it  away, 
resolved  that  nevermore  should  he  be  troubled  with 
this  particular  disturber  of  the  peace.  Then  with 
a  resolute  quiet  action,  he  broke  his  niblick  across 
his  knee.  Lionel,  hoping  to  get  into  conversation, 
left  his  eyrie  and  joined  him  in  the  pit. 

"  My  turn  now,  sir ! "  he  said  with  a  fictitious 
cheerfulness.  "  I  hoped  the  green  was  twenty  yards 
closer.  This  is  a  beastly  place  to  get  out  of." 

It  was  a  false  move.  Had  he  waited  till  the  other 
had  done  a  hole  in  three,  or  at  least  made  one  good 
approach,  Lionel  might  have  found  him  good- 
humored,  conversational,  entertaining.  But  at  the 
moment  he  was  not  himself.  With  a  contemptuous 
"  Allez  au  diable!"  the  ambassador  looked  sourly 
on  Lionel  and  climbed  slowly  up  the  hill.  Lionel, 


A  CHANGE  OF  LODGING  2131 

disappointed  but  not  resentful,  watched  him  drive 
from  the  next  tee. 

He  followed  him  round  without  result,  and  in 
the  fulness  of  time  saw  him  leave  the  golf -house 
and  walk  dejectedly  home.  After  watching  him 
enter  The  Happy  Heart,  Lionel  made  his  way  peace- 
fully to  The  Quiet  House,  hoping  Miss  Arkwright 
would  have  returned.  In  this  he  was  not  disap- 
pointed, for  the  silent  footman  bowed  in  answer  to 
his  question  and  held  the  door  invitingly  open.  Li- 
onel accepted  the  unspoken  welcome,  entered  and 
was  shown  into  the  drawing-room.  The  footman 
placed  a  chair  and  motioned  that  he  should  sit  down. 
Lionel  obeyed  with  a  vague  feeling  that  something 
was  amiss.  Was  it  the  silence  of  the  footman  that 
gave  him  an  uncanny  impression,  or  was  it  the  at- 
mosphere of  the  house?  He  had  heard  of  presenti- 
ments of  ill  under  similar  circumstances  and  had 
disbelieved  them  all,  but  now  it  was  different  .  .  . 
he  was  uneasy.  After  sitting  uncomfortably  in  his 
chair,  half  expecting  it  to  play  some  goblin  trick 
upon  him,  he  got  up  and  began  to  look  at  a  picture 
hanging  above  the  mantelpiece. 

He  was  still  busy  with  his  scrutiny  when  he  heard 
the  door  open  and  close  again  behind  him.  Turn- 
ing at  the  sound,  he  saw  a  lady  standing  perfectly 


214  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

still  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  Lionel  gasped, 
and  almost  fell.  "You!"  he  quavered,  sure  now 
that  wizardry  was  at  work.  fe  You! " 

"  Please  sit  down,"  said  a  grave  voice.  "  I  am 
Miss  Arkwright." 

Lionel  pulled  himself  together  with  an  effort,  but 
he  did  not  sit  down. 

"  No,"  he  objected  steadily.  "  I  am  sorry  to  con- 
tradict you,  but  that  is  not  true.  You  are  playing 
a  trick  on  me  for  some  reason  that  I  can  not  under- 
stand. But  I  swear  that  you  are  not  Miss  Ark- 
wright." 

The  lady  smiled,  as  one  who  soothes  a  maniac. 

"  Indeed  ?  "  she  said  courteously.  "  Then  perhaps 
you  will  tell  me  who  I  am  ?  " 

"  You  are  Miss  Beatrice  Blair,"  said  Lionel  in 
a  hard  voice.  He  was  bitterly  disappointed,  and 
no  wonder. 

"  Beatrice  Blair  ? "  repeated  the  other,  with  an 
astonishment  that  could  not  but  be  genuine. 
"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?  Who  is  Beatrice  Blair  ?  " 

"  She  was  playing  last  night  at  the  Macready 
Theater,"  returned  Lionel  with  a  patient  dignity. 
"  How  she  contrives  to  be  at  Shereling  at  this  hour, 
mystifying  a  poor  wretch  whose  only  fault  is  a  too 
ardent  devotion,  I  can  not  explain." 


A  CHANGE  OF  LODGING  215 

This  he  thought  rather  a  fine  speech,  and  he  was 
relieved  to  see  the  clearing  of  her  brow.  But  he 
was  mistaken  as  to  the  cause. 

"  The  Macready  Theater !  "  cried  the  lady  in  a 
tone  of  satisfaction.  "Ah!  I  can  guess  now. 
You  must  mean  my  sister,  of  course.  There  can 
be  no  other  explanation.  I  know  she  is  " —  she 
shuddered  daintily  —  "  an  actress,  but  I  had  quite 
forgotten  her  nom  de  guerre." 

"  Her  .  .  .  sister  .  .  ."  repeated  Lionel  dully. 
"  Why,  yes  ...  I  thought  I  was  calling  on  her 
sister  ...  I  wished  to  see  her  —  not  Miss  Blair 
again.  .  .  ." 

He  sat  down,  unable  to  realize  it  yet. 

"  Did  you  not  know  we  were  twins  ?  "  she  asked, 
clearly  anxious  to  help  him. 

"  I  had  heard  .  .  .  but  I  did  not  expect  .  .  ." 

"  To  find  the  resemblance  so  striking?  I  have  not 
seen  my  sister  for  years,  but  when  we  were  younger 
strangers  often  mistook  us.  We  were  mutual 
replicas.  I  imagine  from  your  suprise  that  the  re- 
semblance is  still  very  marked." 

"  That  is  the  feeblest  way  of  putting  it,"  he  an- 
swered, still  staring  as  if  fascinated.  "  You  are 
identical  in  every  feature  —  eyes  —  hair  —  even  the 
voice.  ." 


216  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Perhaps  you  might  find  that  we  differ  in  dis- 
position —  in  character " 

He  interrupted  bruskly,  forcing  himself  to  ac- 
cept the  incredible. 

"  Excuse  me ;  but  I  can  not  imagine  any  one  so 
perfect  as  Miss  Blair." 

The  lady  sighed.     "  She  is  on  the  stage." 

"  Good  heavens,  madam !  "  said  Lionel  with  scorn- 
ful candor.  "  Does  the  stage  spell  infamy  to  you? 
I  thought  that  attitude  was  vieux  jeu  now." 

"  I  may  be  old-fashioned,"  she  said  primly,  "  but 
I  am  under  few  illusions.  Of  course  I  would  not 
even  hint  that  my  sister  is  likely  to  tread  the  down- 
ward path"  ("Oh,  lord!"  he  groaned  in  spirit) 
—  "  one  of  our  family  must  have  sufficient  firmness 
of  character  to  rise  above  even  her  environment. 
But  we  know  the  old  proverb  of  pitch  and  defile- 
ment ;  can  she  honestly  hope  to  retain  her  bloom  un- 
sullied?" 

"  Have  you  ever  —  I  won't  say  '  met  an  actor  or 
actress,'  "  asked  Lionel  in  polite  wrath,  "  but,  been 
to  a  theater?" 

"  Certainly.     Three  pantomimes  and  Our  Boys." 

"  But  that  is  —  how  many  years  ago  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  revival  of  the  play,"  she  said  with  a 
blush,  and  Lionel  was  glad  to  notice  that  she  had 


A  CHANGE  OF  LODGING  217 

at  least  one  human  trait.  "  I  am  thankful  to  say 
that  I  did  not  laugh." 

"  And  you  rest  your  condemnation  on  that?  "  he 
asked,  disgusted  that  so  pretty  a  creature  could  be 
so  narrow. 

"  On  that,  on  what  I  have  been  told,  and  on  the 
ridiculous  number  of  post-card  favorites  that  I  see 
—  often  in  deplorable  dishabille  —  in  every  station- 
er's shop.  I  have  deliberately  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  stage  is  immoral.  How,  then,  can  I 
avoid  condemning  my  sister's  lamentable  choice  of 
a  career?  " 

Lionel  rose,  pale  with  anger,  forgetful  of  his  er- 
rand. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  he  said  with  absurd 
dignity.  Of  course,  he  ought  to  have  laughed  and 
talked  about  the  garden.  "  I  am  sorry  you  persist 
in  such  a  hasty  condemnation  of  a  noble  profes- 
sion   " 

"  And  of  Miss  Blair,"  she  put  in  with  a  sly 
jealousy. 

"  If  you  like,"  he  flung  out.  "  I  can  not  allow 
any  one  —  even  you  —  to  criticize  her.  I  regret, 
therefore,  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  stop  the  night." 

"  I  was  not  aware,"  she  said  with  an  unmoved 
countenance,  "  that  I  had  given  you  an  invitation." 


218  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Lionel  was  so  taken  aback  that  he  sat  down 
abruptly  in  his  chair.  Then  the  humor  of  the  situ- 
ation came  to  his  rescue  and  he  laughed  outright. 
The  lady,  too,  though  she  made  a  gallant  effort  to 
control  herself,  failed  miserably.  In  a  moment  the 
pair  of  them  were  united  by  the  most  perfect  bond 
(save  one)  that  earth  knows  —  the  mutual  appreci- 
ation of  a  jest. 

Lionel,  as  the  waves  of  their  mirth  broke  gently 
into  ripples  and  presently  dissolved  in  the  foam  of 
smiles,  realized  how  foolish  he  had  been.  When  he 
set  out  first  for  The  Quiet  House  he  had  taken  it 
for  granted  that  Beatrice  had  telegraphed  to  bespeak 
her  sister's  hospitality.  It  was  only  too  clear  now 
that  she  had  not  done  tnis,  either  through  forget- 
fulness,  pressure  of  work,  or  procrastination.  He 
had  simply  assumed  that  Miss  Arkwright  would  re- 
ceive him  as  her  guest,  and  the  conversation  had 
been  too  briskly  controversial  to  allow  him  to  think. 
Now  he  was  doubly  annoyed  at  his  clumsiness :  he 
had  behaved  like  a  boor  and  had  sacrificed  the  in- 
terests of  Beatrice  to  an  ill-timed  chivalry.  His  cue 
was  submission  at  all  costs  for  Beatrice's  sake. 

"  I  apologize,"  he  said  with  a  frank  good  humor. 
"  I  thought  your  sister  had  already  engaged  your 
good  offices  on  my  behalf."  He  noticed  hopefully 


A  CHANGE  OF  LODGING  219 

that  Miss  Arkwright's  eyes  still  twinkled  with 
amusement.  Clearly  she  was  not  all  prunes  and 
prisms. 

"  I  have  heard  nothing,"  said  the  lady  much  more 
sweetly.  "  No  doubt  she  meant  to  write,  and  for- 
got. Poor  Beatrice!  She  was  always  harum- 
scarum." 

To  a  sensitive  man  this  might  have  implied  a 
lack  of  confidence  in  the  protege  of  Beatrice,  and 
Lionel  moved  uneasily. 

"  I  hope,"  he  said  humbly,  "  that  you  will  for- 
give me.  I  trust  that  you  will  allow  me  to  prove 
my  good  faith  —  that ' 

"  I  shall  ask  you  to  dine  and  sleep  ?  "  she  said 
bluntly,  though  a  charming  smile  softened  the 
crudity  of  her  words.  "  Well,  Mr. ?  " 

"  Mortimer.     Lionel  Mortimer." 

"  Mr.  Mortimer,  I  do  not  doubt  your  word  for 
a  moment.  I  should  enjoy  cultivating  your  ac- 
quaintance and  hearing  some  first-hand  news  of  my 
sister.  But  I  fear  it  is  impossible.  You  see  there 
are  the  proprieties  to  be  considered.  I  am  a  single 
lady,  and  perhaps  ..." 

To  Lionel  this  was  an  astonishing  view  of  the 
case.  After  his  unconventional  week  at  the  Blooms- 
flat  he  was  poorly  qualified  to  appreciate  the. 


220  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

apprehensions  of  Miss  Arkwright.  His  brain  told 
him  idly  that  she  was  perfectly  right,  but  his  heart 
merely  insisted  on  the  abyss  between  her  outlook 
and  her  sister's.  And,  as  usually  happens,  the  heart 
found  the  readier  audience. 

"  Quite  so  —  quite  so !     But  surely  you 

"Are  old  enough?"  she  suggested  helpfully, 
plunging  him  deeper. 

"No  —  no !  I  did  not  mean  that !  I  only  meant 
that  surely  you  have  a  housekeeper  —  some  person 
of  mature  age,  much  older  —  oh !  much  older  than 
yourself  —  who  would  save  the  situation?" 

"  Well,"  she  admitted  with  an  exasperating  coy- 
ness, "  I  have  such  a  domestic,  it  is  true.  Mrs. 
Wetherby  is  sixty.  Do  you  think  that  would  do?  " 

"Admirably!"  cried  Lionel  in  triumph,  caring 
nothing  for  his  recent  buffets.  "  Admirably !  Mrs. 
Wetherby  shall  protect  you  with  the  armor  of  a 
centurion  —  or  of  a  Lord  Nelson,"  he  added  scrup- 
ulously, remembering  that  the  pre-dreadnought  era 
would  carry  more  conviction.  "  The  tiling  is  ar- 
ranged! I  shall  stay  after  all!  " 

"  Thank  you,"  returned  Miss  Arkwright  with  a 
demure  twinkle.  ("  Is  she  a  prude?  Oh,  is  she?  " 
he  reflected,  watching.)  "Of  course,  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  do  all  I  can  for  a  friend  of  Beatrice. 


A  CHANGE  OF  LODGING  221 

You  really  do  know  her  ? "  she  asked  in  pretty  ap- 
peal, as  if  frightened  at  her  own  rashness. 

"If  you  like,"  said  Lionel,  luxuriously  recalling 
his  wonderful  week,  "  I  shall  paint  a  word-picture 
of  her  charms.  I  shall  tell  you  how  her  eyes  shame 
the  starlight  —  how  her  hair  can  enmesh  the  hearts 
of  all  beholders  —  how  her  lips " 

"  I  do  not  think  I  need  trouble  you,"  interrupted 
his  hostess  rather  distantly.  "  No  doubt  Beatrice 
is  an  attractive  young  person " 

"Young  person!"  he  repeated,  horror-struck. 
"Beatrice  Blair  a  young  person!  Profanity! 
Please,  please  do  not  — 

"  I  shall  leave  you  to  think  of  a  better  descrip- 
tion," she  said,  with  a  smile  of  pity  that  held  no 
scorn.  "  I  have  some  letters  to  write,  and  I  fear 
you  will  have  to  dine  alone.  You  must  excuse  me, 
but  it  is  inevitable.  .  .  .  Do  you  mind  ringing  the 
bell?" 

He  obeyed,  and  a  moment  later  the  footman 
entered.  "  Take  this  gentleman  to  the  blue  room, 
Forbes,"  said  Miss  Arkwright.  "  See  that  he  has 
everything  he  wants."  The  footman  bowed  and 
held  the  door  open  for  Lionel.  "  Dinner  is  at  half 
past  seven.  If  you  are  dull  before  then,  please  go 
to  the  library.  But  perhaps  you  are  not  a  reader? 


222  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Perhaps  you  are  of  those  *  whose  only  books 
are '  "  She  checked  herself,  as  if  remember- 
ing her  own  correctness  or  the  immobile  Forbes. 

"  They  taught  me  only  wisdom  —  the  best  wis- 
dom of  all,"  said  Lionel,  answering  the  unfinished 
quotation.  Then  he  went  out,  wondering. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
A  LETTER  AND  SOME  REFLECTIONS 

"  BLOOMSBURY,  LONDON. 
"TAEAR    MR.     MORTIMER,— Long   before 

.1— J  this  reaches  you  my  sister  will  have  re- 
ceived a  telegram  introducing  you  properly.  I  am 
so  sorry  that  I  forgot  to  wire  before,  but  I  have  been 
so  harassed  and  busy  that  I  never  thought  about 
it.  A  true  woman,  you  will  say  —  I  can  almost  see 
your  superior  smile  as  I  sit  writing  here,  yet  I  dare 
to  hope  that  the  smile  will  not  be  too  superior, 
that  a  touch  of  pity  will  creep  in  when  you  re- 
member that  my  worry  is  for  a  husband's  freedom. 
If  only  I  can  save  Lukos  —  but  it  is  foolish  to  waste 
time  on  '  if's.'  I  mean  to  succeed,  and  you  have 
promised  to  help  me.  You  have  my  heartfelt  grati- 
tude already. 

'''  Thank  you  for  your  letter  telling  me  of  your 
arrival  at  The  Quiet  House.  Do  not  be  discouraged 
that  you  have  not  seen  Mizzi  yet,  and  that  you 
have  been  unable  to  approach  the  ambassador 

again.     'I  have  been  working  very  hard  and  am  not 

223 


224  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

dissatisfied  with  the  results,  though  they  would  IOOK 
paltry  if  I  committed  them  to  paper.  My  informa- 
tion leads  me  to  think  that  we  are  on  the  right 
track  —  that  Mizzi  is  the  guilty  party  —  that  sooner 
or  later  an  attempt  will  be  made  to  sell  the  docu- 
ment — •  and  lastly  that  we  must  suspect  every  one. 
Yes,  every  one  I  Even  my  sister,  perhaps,  and  that 
brings  me  to  the  more  important  part  of  my  letter. 
"  I  have  not  seen  Winifred  for  some  years,  but 
from  the  hints  you  gave  me  in  your  letter  I  gather 
that  she  is  of  distinctly  prepossessing  appearance. 
(Isn't  that  how  the  police  reports  usually  describe 
it  ?)  My  pen  hesitates  whether  to  write  '  Be  on  your 
guard  '  or  not.  Shall  I  ?  .  .  .  may  I  ?  .  .  .  But  it 
is  written  and  must  stand.  Oh!  do  not  imagine 
that  I  am  distrustful  —  I  know  you  can  be  relied  on 
—  I  know  you  can  be  true  and  firm  and  faithful: 
but  my  heart  fails  when  I  remember  that  you  are 
a  man;  encompassed,  too,  by  perils  you  hardly  per- 
ceive, snares  almost  impalpable.  Forgive  me!  I 
have  no  right  to  speak  like  this.  ...  I  know  you 
are  honorable  .  .  .  but  the  greatness  of  the  stake 
forces  me  to  utter  my  warning  —  to  foresee  danger 
which  may  be  remote  —  to  leave  no  stone  unturned 
to  insure  a  triumph  —  to  guard  against  any  weak- 
ness, however  venial  or  trivial,  which  may  make 


SOME  REFLECTIONS  225 

my  path  —  and  the  path  of  Lukos !  —  more  diffi- 
cult. 

"  This  is  a  rambling  letter.  It  is  midnight,  and 
I  have  had  a  tiring  day.  Forgive  me  and  under- 
stand; or,  if  you  can  not  understand,  forgive!  I 
urge  you  again  to  watch  my  sister  carefully.  .  .  . 
Heavens!  it  seems  a  perfidy;  but  the  life  of  Lukos! 
.  .  .  Watch  her,  I  say  again.  I  have  grave  cause 
for  suspicion,  though  she  does  not  guess  I  suspect. 
Why  she,  above  all  others,  should  betray  me  I  can 
not  tell.  I  had  hoped,  that — >but  this  is  weak 
and  futile.  Watch  her  carefully. 

"  You  say  that  up  to  the  present  nothing  has  hap- 
pened. It  may  well  be  that  nothing  will  happen  for 
a  time.  In  any  case,  you  are  of  the  greatest  service 
by  remaining  at  The  Quiet  House  —  on  guard ! 
Stay  there  at  all  costs,  till  you  hear  from  me  again. 
Do  what  she  tells  you  —  play  the  hypocrite  if  need 
be  —  strive  to  conciliate  her,  but  watch.  I  have 
London  under  my  eyes. 

"  So  much  for  the  chief  business.  As  for  news, 
the  play  ceases  very  shortly  and  I  may  be  able  to 
arrange  a  meeting,  when  we  can  talk  things  over. 
On  the  whole,  I  am  happy,  being  busy, —  at  least 
as  happy  as  I  can  expect  to  be  until  .  .  .  Oh!  by 
the  way,  since  we  parted  I  have  had  another  offer 


226  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

of  marriage.  Such  a  nice  man,  too.  But  if  only 
men  could  be  satisfied  with  being  true  friends.  .  .  . 
Some  men  can,  I  know,  but  the  rest  ...  I  am  tired. 
Good  night,  my  friend. —  Your  friend, 

"  BEATRICE  BLAIR." 

Such  was  the  letter  that  Lionel  was  reading  for 
the  fiftieth  time  since,  a  fortnight  past,  it  had  come 
to  The  Quiet  House.  It  gave  him  little  information 
and  less  comfort.  From  the  formal  "  Dear  Mr. 
Mortimer"  ("Hang  it!  I  couldn't  expect  'Li- 
onel' !  "  he  told  himself  savagely)  to  the  distant 
intimacy  of  "  Your  friend  Beatrice  Blair,"  it  was 
unsatisfying  to  a  devoted  adherent  of  romance. 
Yet  what  else  could  he  ask  for?  He  was  not  in 
love  —  no!  he  was  not  in  love,  for  there  was  a 
husband!  Besides,  Beatrice  would  be  the  last  per- 
son to  lead  him  on  when  .  .  .  Stay !  there  had  been 
temptation  on  her  part  in  the  cab  and  in  the  dressing- 
room.  Yes,  there  had;  there  was  no  sense  in  pre- 
tending to  himself  that  there  had  been  no  encourage- 
ment: there  had.  Charity  (a  word,  by  the  way, 
which  the  Revised  Version  has  altered  to  "  Love  ") 
on  the  instant  said :  "  Coxcomb !  She  led  you  on  to 
engage  your  services  for  Lukos.  A  pardonable  de- 


SOME  REFLECTIONS  227 

ception."  "  Very  well,"  grumbled  Lionel,  admitting 
the  justice  of  the  argument,  "  let  it  be  so.  But  it 
seems  a  little  rough  on  ...  ?  " 

Leaving  this,  he  turned  to  other  items,  trying  to 
read  some  new  shades  of  meaning  into  the  too-well- 
remembered  words.  She  was  working  hard  — 
good :  she  was  fairly  happy  —  good :  he  must  stay 
where  he  was  —  good :  watching  —  good :  Lukos  — 
Lukos  —  again  Lukos  .  .  .  h'm  .  .  .  yes,  good  — 
certainly  good.  The  beggar  was  her  husband,  after 
all.  Good.  The  sister  was  pretty  —  a  smile:  he 
must  be  on  his  guard  .  .  .  h'm  .  .  .  perfidy  .  .  . 
a  traitor  ...  of  prepossessing  appearance  .  .  . 
could  she  be  ...  jealous? 

"  Coxcomb !  "  said  reason  again :  "  look  at  the 
end  —  '  Your  friend.'  Then,  too,  there  is  '  another 
proposal  .  .  .  such  a  nice  man.'  Jealousy?  Ha! 
ha!  "  Lionel  swallowed  the  pill  with  a  bad  grace  and 
put  the  letter  away. 

He  had  been  at  The  Quiet  House  for  a  little  more 
than  a  fortnight,  and  up  to  the  present  he  had 
achieved  nothing.  Mizzi  had  made  no  sign,  the 
ambassador  was  invisible,  no  further  instructions 
had  come  from  Beatrice.  Yet  he  had  been  interested 
and  amused,  studying  the  character  of  his  hostess  and 


228  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

waiting,  Micawber-like,  for  something  to  turn  up. 

His  position  was  the  oddest  conceivable.  Since 
Beatrice's  telegram  ("  She  introduces  you,"  said 
Miss  Arkwright,  "  at  the  price  of  five  and  three- 
pence. You  must  be  an  exceptional  man!")  he 
had  been  more  than  a  guest,  almost  an  old  acquaint- 
ance. He  had  been  accepted  without  question, 
treated  as  an  equal,  hall-marked  with  the  stamp  of 
an  Arkwright's  approval,  because  the  Arkwrights, 
it  appeared,  prided  themselves  on  their  hospitality. 
It  was  not  for  the  sake  of  Beatrice  alone  that  he 
received  so  warm  a  welcome:  she  was  a  lady  to  be 
mentioned  with  reserve,  being  "  on  the  stage." 
But  she  was  an  Arkwright,  and  a  guest  vouched 
for  (especially  at  five  and  threepence)  by  an  Ark- 
wright was  a  person  to  be  considered. 

This  at  a  price,  and  a  curious  price  at  that.  "  In 
some  things  I  am  a  faddist,"  Miss  Arkwright  had 
said  the  morning  after  his  arrival.  "  I  admit  it 
freely.  I  am  glad  to  welcome  you  here,  Mr.  Morti- 
mer, but  if  you  stay  you  must  give  me  your  word 
not  to  go  outside  my  grounds  during  your  visit. 
The  garden  is  large  —  the  village  uninteresting,  so 
your  curtailed  liberty  will  not  be  much  of  a  depriva- 
tion. You  think  me  insane,  perhaps  ?  Well,  I  have 
reasons  for  my  wish, —  personal  reasons  into  which 


SOME  REFLECTIONS  229 

I  can  not  enter.  That  is  the  only  stipulation  I  make : 
can  you  accept  it  ?  " 

He  said  yes,  for  refusal  meant  a  lodging  at  the 
inn,  where  he  could  not  watch  her.  In  his  letter 
to  Beatrice  he  told  her  of  this  extraordinary  whim, 
and  asked  whether  she  thought  it  better  to  agree 
or  to  pack  up  and  go.  Her  "  stay  at  all  costs  "  was 
sufficient  answer,  and  though  he  hoped  this  did 
not  mean  "If  need  arise,  break  bounds  and  your 
word,"  still  he  meant  to  do  it  if  necessary.  The 
life  of  Lukos  and  her  happiness  were  worth  more 
than  a  detective's  honor. 

But  up  to  the  present  there  had  been  no  question 
of  breaking  bounds.  He  could  see  nothing  of  Mr. 
"  Beckett "  nor  Mizzi,  but  he  was  obeying  Beatrice. 
And  it  was  not  unpleasant  even  for  a  detective  to 
enjoy  luxurious  idleness,  a  perfect  garden  and  the 
society  of  a  charming  woman.  For  she  was  charm- 
ing, despite  her  fads  and  bigotry.  She  was  well 
read,  exceedingly  pretty,  and  could  talk.  The  morn- 
ings she  spent  in  writing  and  arranging  her  house- 
hold affairs.  After  lunch  she  gave  herself  up  to 
him  entirely.  Tea  they  usually  had  together  in  the 
summer-house.  About  five  she  always  excused  her- 
self, and  Lionel  dined  alone.  He  was  given  to  un- 
derstand that  she  was  busy  on  a  history  of  the  Ark- 


230  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

wright  family  and  could  work  best  at  night.  Con- 
sequently he  never  saw  anything  of  her  again  till 
breakfast. 

This  naturally  struck  him  as  one  of  the  most 
suspicious  features  of  the  case.  Suspicious  —  not 
in  the  sense  that  Miss  Arkwright  was  an  Ottoman 
conspirator,  for  that  he  had  been  instructed  to  ex- 
pect; but  suspicious  for  a  deeper  reason.  More 
than  once  during  the  first  week  of  his  stay  he  had 
caught  himself  wondering,  "  Can  she  be,  by  any 
chance,  Beatrice  herself,  masquerading  as  her  own 
sister?"  It  was  a  solution  that  suggested  itself  to 
a  mind  seeking  explanation  of  extraordinary  things, 
extraordinary  people.  It  was  the  most  natural  sus- 
picion in  the  world,  considering  what  he  had  gone 
through.  He  rejected  it  at  first  as  being  preposter- 
ous and  disloyal,  but  common  sense  and  a  dislike 
of  being  victimized  made  him  return  to  the  idea  and 
weigh  it  from  day  to  day. 

In  the  end  he  discarded  the  theory.  It  was,  he 
thought,  too  enormous  a  deception  to  be  carried 
through  with  success :  even  Beatrice,  actress  though 
she  was,  could  not  have  the  histrionic  powers  neces- 
sary to  the  feat ;  such  a  tour  de  force,  continued  from 
day  to  day,  was  impossible.  Besides,  Miss  Ark- 
wright and  her  sister  were  different  in  many  points. 


SOME  REFLECTIONS  231 

They  were,  it  is  true,  identical  in  voice,  feature  and 
carriage,  but  their  outlook  and  ideas  were  far 
asunder.  Winifred  Arkwright  obviously  hated  the 
stage,  while  Beatrice  Blair  was  an  actress;  Winifred 
seemed  timid  in  some  respects,  Beatrice  radiated 
courage;  the  latter  had  never  mentioned  religion; 
the  former  was  a  Christian  Scientist;  Beatrice 
adored  asparagus;  Winifred's  weakness  was  kidney 
beans.  These,  and  a  hundred  other  variations, 
trivial  in  themselves  but  overwhelming  in  the  mass, 
gave  him  heart  of  grace  and  a  fresh  faith  in  his  lady 
of  the  stage. 

But  despite  all  this  he  claimed  that  Winifred 
might  be  Beatrice.  It  was  almost  unthinkable,  but 
still  it  might  be  so.  What  gave  the  coup  de  grace, 
at  least  for  a  time,  to  his  vain  imaginings  was  a 
copy  of  The  Times.  It  has  been  said  that  Miss 
Arkwright  always  left  him  after  five:  this  would 
Have  given  her  time  to  motor  to  London  and  play 
at  the  theater  if  she  had  been  Beatrice  Blair.  But 
Beatrice  herself  had  written  that  the  play  was  soon 
to  be  taken  off:  when  he  saw  an  announcement  in 
the  newspaper  that  the  Macready  Theater  was  closed, 
he  wondered  if  his  hostess  would  join  him  at  din- 
ner that  night.  If  she  did,  why,  it  would  be  a 
damning  fact.  But  she  did  not,  either  on  that  or 


232  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

any  subsequent  day.  He  breathed  more  freely,  and 
went  on  waiting  as  patiently  as  he  might. 

The  task  of  learning  the  house,  grounds  and  per- 
sonnel did  not  take  long.  The  servants  were  an  aged 
cook,  whom  he  never  saw;  a  gardener;  Forbes  the 
footman;  and  the  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Wetherby,  a 
silent  faded  woman  of  over  sixty,  whose  recreation 
outside  her  duties  was  the  game  of  patience.  A 
sad  and  oppressive  creature,  she,  whose  life  had  been 
a  tragedy.  The  details  were  not  given,  though  Li- 
onel gathered  that  it  had  been  a  very  ordinary  trag- 
edy, but  enough  to  wither  her  life  and  make  her 
shun  her  kind.  Both  the  men  servants  were  dumb 
—  an  odd  circumstance,  but  Lionel  was  getting  used 
to  oddity.  He  expressed  surprise  one  day,  hoping 
to  draw  out  his  hostess.  She  was  frank  about  the 
matter :  "  They  are  dumb,  poor  creatures,  but  their 
affliction  is  my  gain.  Most  servants  gossip  or  argue. 
Mine  do  neither,  and  that  is  why  I  was  at  some 
pains  to  engage  them.  It  works  very  well,  though 
a  stranger  is  naturally  surprised  at  first." 

The  more  he  saw  of  her,  the  more  he  admired. 
The  primness  of  her  attitude,  when  he  began  to 
know  her  better,  struck  him  as  being  anything  but 
ineradicable;  she  was  in  some  things  exceedingly 
human.  They  were  talking  one  afternoon  of  Chris- 


SOME  REFLECTIONS  233 

tian  Science,  and  Lionel  asked  her  if  she  really  be- 
lieved there  was  no  such  thing  as  pain. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  promptly.  "  Pain  is 
merely  ignorance." 

"  Then  you  must  admit,"  he  said,  "  that  there  can 
be  no  pleasure." 

She  was  puzzled.     "  How  so  ?  " 

"  Everything  must  have  its  foil.  Good  requires 
evil  as  its  negative,  or  there  is  —  nothing.  So  to 
feel  pleasure  one  must  postulate  pain.  Otherwise 
you  are  incapable  of  pleasure." 

"  Oh,  but  I'm  not! "  she  said  impulsively,  and 
laughed. 

"  Then  where  are  your  science  and  your  logic?  " 

"  You  mean  I  am  a  woman  and  illogical."  She 
parried,  evading  the  dilemma.  "  When  you  under- 
stand our  true  position  you  will  realize  how  fal- 
lacious are  your  arguments.  Now,  what  do  you 
think  of  Pendennis?" 

He  laughed  again,  but  talked  Thackeray  will- 
ingly enough.  When,  a  few  moments  later,  she 
idly  plucked  a  rose  and  pricked  her  finger  on  a 
thorn,  giving  a  little  cry,  he  said  humorously,  "  Ig- 
norance, not  pain !  "  She  disdained  to  notice  him, 
but  smelt  the  rose  luxuriously.  "  The  illusion  of 
pleasure  ?  "  he  suggested,  pressing  the  thrust  home. 


234  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Her  eyes  sparkled  with  indignation,  but  he  smiled 
into  them  unafraid.  They  were  getting  on  capitally, 
he  felt,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  find  Miss  Arkwright 
so  much  of  a  women.  She  would  pay  for  flirtatious 
treatment,  he  thought  villainously,  reflecting  what  a 
shame  it  was  that  lips  so  alluring  should  be  unkissed. 
Lionel,  you  may  have  observed,  was  an  adaptable 
creature.  Fickle?  Surely  not.  He  had  mapped 
his  course  and  was  steering  strictly  according  to 
compass.  While  Beatrice  was  still  a  grass-widow 
the  more  innocent  paths  of  dalliance  showed  no 
warning  board,  "  Trespassers  will  be  Prosecuted." 
They  were  not  applauded,  it  is  true  —  and  here  he 
readily  confessed  his  weakness, —  but  they  were  not 
forbidden.  So  why,  in  the  strict  execution  of  the 
charge  laid  upon  him,  may  he  not  try  to  persuade 
Miss  Arkwright  to  take  a  less  frigid  view  of  life? 
The  reader,  virtuous  soul,  may  censure :  I  can  only 
record.  Yet,  too,  it  was  something  in  the  nature 
of  a  drug  to  his  conscience.  When  he  had  time  to 
think  (and  he  had  plenty  of  time  for  that)  he 
loathed  the  idea  of  being  there  under  false  pre- 
tenses, playing  the  spy.  It  was  all  very  well  argu- 
ing that  it  was  for  the  sake  of  Beatrice,  but  it 
would  have  been  an  easier  task  if  Winifred  had  not 
been  so  charming.  She  was  too  charming,  but  it 


SOME  REFLECTIONS  235 

had  to  be  done.  ...  Of  course,  he  ought  to  have 
refused  a  hint  of  dalliance,  but  one  step  leads  to  an- 
other, and  man  is  frail.  Besides,  it  had  not  gone 
very  far  .  .  .  not  far  enough  to  hurt  either  him  or 
her. 

One  mundane  detail  must  be  given  in  this  chap- 
ter. The  morning  after  his  arrival  he  had  written 
to  London  for  a  supply  of  clothes.  For  the  credit 
of  the  Blair  side  of  the  family  he  felt  that  some 
of  Beatrice's  notes  ought  to  be  spent  on  an  adequate 
wardrobe.  They  came  the  day  after,  giving  color 
to  the  excuse  that  his  valet  had  got  drunk  and 
pawned  the  contents  of  his  flat  two  hours  after  his 
leaving  London.  Miss  Arkwright  did  not  seem  to 
think  it  strange;  anything  might  happen  in  that 
wicked  city.  But  she  considered  the  Homburg  hat 
a  little  "  too  continental."  This  was  before  her 
education  had  begun  in  earnest. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

OFF   WITH    THE  OLD   LOVE 

IT  is  all  very  well  to  be  urged  to  suspect,  for, 
within  reason,  nothing  is  easier.  The  world,  in 
the  process  of  our  education,  deals  out  so  many  hard 
knocks  that  speedily  we  begin  to  look  with  dubious 
eyes  on  every  stranger  —  sometimes,  alas !  even  upon 
our  friends.  We  suspect  the  motives  of  Smith,  who 
recommends  a  first-rate  cigar:  does  he  get  a  com- 
mission? We  suspect  Brown,  who  asks  up  to  drop 
in  any  evening:  has  he  a  marriageable  daughter? 
Jones  lauds  the  latest  novel:  is  he  the  anonymous 
author?  Robinson  advises  the  purchase  of  Consoli- 
dated Stumers :  is  he  trying  to  make  us  "  hold  the 
baby  "  ?  Suspicion  is  epidemic.  What  the  world 
wants  is  a  host  of  missionary  spirits  to  say,  "  For 
goodness'  sake  do  drop  suspicion  for  a  while  and 
believe  in  your  fellow  man!  Smith  really  does 
imagine  himself  a  judge  of  tobacco;  Brown,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  thinks  you  quite  a  pleasant  chap, 
and  his  daughter  is  engaged;  Jones  never  wrote  a 

line  in  his  life,  save  on  a  check;  and  Robinsorj  for 

236 


OFF  WITH  THE  OLD  LOVE         237 

once    has    inside    information.     Give    suspicion    a 
rest !  "     Ah !  if  only  the  other  fellow  would ! 

Lionel  had  been  told  to  suspect,  and  at  first  found 
the  task  no  harder  than  you  or  I  should  find  it. 
But  apart  from  the  strong  inducement  to  forego 
suspicion  —  viz.,  the  physical  and  mental  attractions 
of  Miss  Arkwright  —  every  day  made  it  more  diffi- 
cult to  sustain  the  suspicious  attitude.  The  early 
surprises  —  the  "out  of  bounds"  rule,  the  dumb 
servants,  the  seclusion  of  his  hostess  and  the  like 
—  gave  him  plenty  to  wonder  at,  rich  food  for  a 
seeker  of  garbage.  But  usage  made  the  odd  seem 
ordinary,  and  Miss  Arkwright  always  had  an  ex- 
planation. The  servants  had  already  been  accounted 
for;  the  prohibition  of  the  village  might  be  a  whim 
(though  of  course  he  was  not  satisfied  with  this), 
her  own  seclusion  he  guessed,  from  a  hint  here  and 
there,  was  due  to  a  disappointment  in  early  youth. 
But  it  was  really  custom  that  staled  the  infinite  vari- 
ety of  the  first  surprises ;  he  had  to  accept  the  routine 
of  The  Quiet  House,  and  could  not  be  expected  to 
whip  up  a  daily  supply  of  suspicions.  One  can 
imagine,  perhaps,  a  Jew  in  a  medieval  baron's  dun- 
geon waking  peacefully  and  asking  his  jailer,  "  What 
is  it  to-day,  Cedric  ?  A  tooth  out,  the  strappado,  or 
the  rack?  Just  a  tooth?  Good," 


238  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

The  analogy  is  anything  but  exact,  for  Lionel  did 
not  get  a  succession  of  thrills.  The  daily  wonder 
as  to  why  she  forbade  him  the  village;  why  she  did 
not  receive  any  local  god,  parson,  squire,  or  doctor; 
why  she  did  this  or  that,  dwindled  imperceptibly. 
He  did  not  consciously  relax :  he  had  to  adjust  him- 
self to  the  new  conditions;  but  the  effort  at  adjust- 
ment grew  less  laborious,  and  soon  was  in  some 
danger  of  ceasing  altogether. 

Not  that  he  abandoned  his  vigilance.  Beatrice 
had  enjoined  him  with  unnecessary  and  vain  repe- 
tition to  watch  her  sister.  He  gladly  obeyed.  The 
English  language  is  susceptible  of  many  interpreta- 
tions, and  who  could  dogmatize  on  the  precise  value 
to  be  attached  to  the  word  "  watch ! "  ?  Lionel 
"  watched  "  all  the  time,  but  his  watching  at  the 
end  of  a  fortnight  was  very  different  from  the  early 
vigils.  He  learned  nothing  from  watching,  save  that 
Winifred  Arkwright  was  a  delightful  creature,  with 
hair  of  such  and  such  a  color  and  softness  —  eyes 
of  such  and  such  a  sweetness,  and  so  forth.  Things, 
you  observe,  of  no  importance  from  Lukos'  point  of 
view,  though  a  chronicler  is  bound  to  state  them, 
however  briefly. 

They  became  good  friends.  There  was  no  hint  of 
boredom  on  either  side,  no  suggestion  that  the  visit 


OFF  WITH  THE  OLD  LOVE        239 

was  being  prolonged  a  little  queerly.  Lionel,  you 
may  be  sure,  did  not  offer  to  go:  he  was  obeying 
Beatrice  (who  had  not  written  again,  though  he 
sent  a  daily  bulletin  to  London),  and  was  in  no 
hurry  to  study  fresh  characters.  It  was  no  ill  re- 
ward of  virtue  to  find  a  replica  of  Beatrice  to  keep 
his  devotion  alive.  A  brutal  phrase, —  too  brutal. 
His  devotion  was  there,  hidden  below  the  surface, 
but  necessarily  quiescent  as  long  as  Lukos  lived. 
That  might  be  for  years;  therefore,  why  not  sun 
himself  in  Beatrice's  rays  by  proxy?  A  statue  can 
partly  compensate  for  the  loss  of  an  adored:  even 
a  photograph  is  better  than  nothing.  But  a  real 
woman, —  a  living  replica  .  .  .  Lionel  thought 
himself  in  luck.  He  mentioned  this  in  one  of  his 
letters,  hoping  to  show  how  strong  and  faithful  he 
was.  He  did  not  mention  it  to  Winifred.  Even  a 
lay  figure  has  feelings. 

A  lay  figure  .  .  .  was  she  merely  that?  The 
question  came  to  him  more  than  once  during  that 
peaceful  fortnight.  He  faced  it  without  a  blush, 
and  up  to  the  present  had  always  been  able  to  give 
an  affirmative  answer.  His  memory  of  Beatrice  and 
the  unnecessary  warning  in  her  letter  enabled  him 
to  watch,  admire  and  lightly  dally  with  the  rose- 
weaved  chains.  He  laughed  at  the  warning :  he  was 


240  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

a  man,  of  course,  and  no  stronger  than  his  fellows ; 
but  fancy  being  in  danger  of  falling  in  love  with 
Miss  Arkwright !  In  love  —  real,  genuine  love  .  .  . 
absurd!  Why,  he  was  not  in  love  with  Beatrice. 
Was  he  ?  N  ...  no  ...  He  was  a  free  man  — 
hurrah ! 

At  the  end  of  ten  days  he  could  utter  the  mental 
hurrah  with  a  braver  note:  Beatrice  was  a  darling, 
whom  he  hoped  to  see  again  soon.  But  in  love? 
No.  In  love  with  Miss  Arkwright,  then?  (In  his 
mind  he  now  called  her  Winifred.)  No.  Of 
course  not.  Absurd.  Was  she  not  a  lay  figure? 
.  .  .  Stay!  —  that  was  hardly  the  choicest  of  ex- 
pressions, hardly  respectful  or  considerate.  She  was 
a  delightful  lady  whom  it  was  his  painful  duty  to 
watch.  But  one  must  not  speak  of  her  as  a  lay 
figure:  that  is  crude,  elementary  .  .  .  containing  a 
grain  of  truth,  one  admits,  but  likely  to  be  misinter- 
preted by  the  vulgar  herd.  "  A  peerless  proxy " 
would  be  more  in  keeping. 

And  the  proxy,  what  of  her?  How  had  she  fared 
during  her  unusual  fortnight?  Patently,  anything 
but  ill.  Under  the  sun  of  Lionel's  sympathetic 
kindliness  her  virgin  coldness  melted.  They  talked 
together  on  every  subject  —  men  and  women,  books, 
art,  music.  Their  views  often  clashed,  but  interest 


OFF  WITH  THE  OLD  LOVE        241 

is  sustained  by  conflict;  complete  agreement  makes 
conversation  a  superfluity.  Their  conversation 
rarely  descended  to  small  talk,  though  more  than 
once  it  became  almost  a  quarrel. 

A  quarrel  of  friends,  be  it  understood, —  a  quar- 
rel that  left  no  bitterness  behind,  but  made  the  next 
meeting  more  stored  with  interest,  explanation,  with- 
drawal, even  partial  conversion.  Their  chief  de- 
batable country  was  the  stage ;  and  at  last  Lionel  had 
the  happiness  of  winning  the  admission  that  the  stage 
had  possibly  improved  of  recent  years.  A  great  ad- 
mission for  her!  He  paid  his  debt  handsomely  by 
a  promise  to  read  a  book  (five  hundred  and  thirty- 
seven  pages,  eight  volumes)  on  Christian  Science. 
She  gave  him  the  book  next  day.  Alas !  it  now  re- 
poses in  the  present  historian's  drawer,  the  leaves 
still  innocent  of  the  paper-knife. 

So  a  pretty  comradeship  sprang  up  between  a 
cloistered  lady  and  an  ineligible  worldling.  The 
latter  had  never  a  penny,  had  not  so  long  ago 
vowed  himself  to  the  service  of  another,  declared 
upon  his  honor  that  his  heart  was  no  one's,  lived 
for  the  moment  on  a  false-won  hospitality.  What 
would  be  the  end  of  such  a  revolting  character? 
A  queer  sort  of  hero,  in  very  truth;  but  the  world 
is  an  asylum  of  lunatics  seeking  happiness  by  a  host 


242  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

of  roads.  You  who  condemn  the  road  of  Lionel 
are  asked  to  remember  the  stony  paths  he  had  trod- 
den without  complaint.  Let  him  settle  any  difficulties 
of  conscience  for  himself,  and  be  not  too  hasty  in 
your  judgments.  Let  him  at  least  have  his  fortnight 
of  so-called  happiness.  If  it  be  not  in  accordance 
with  your  ideas  of  the  summum  bonum,  remember 
that  it  is  not  his.  A  fortnight  in  an  oasis  need  not 
be  grudged  when  the  desert  lies  behind  and  before. 
If  he  has  not  learned  wisdom  you  may  be  sure  that 
he  will  ere  long.  Rub  your  hands,  gentlemen,  and 
look  forward  to  a  rare  feast  of  disillusion  and  dis- 
enchantment! Possibly  there  may  be  an  exposure, 
disgrace,  even  a  prison  if  we  are  lucky  and  have  pa- 
tience. And  if  you  can  spare  a  little  pickle  for  the 
rod,  be  good  enough  to  pass  it  up! 

As  for  the  other  characters  in  this  rural  comedy 
—  or  melodrama  if  you  prefer  it  —  their  lives  have 
been  equally  uneventful  during  the  last  fortnight. 
Tony  Wild  and  Mr.  "  Bangs  "  are  still  occupying 
rooms  at  The  Happy  Heart,  chafing  at  the  lack  of 
events.  They  have  allowed  it  to  be  understood  that 
they  are  on  a  holiday,  seeking  peace.  They  have 
thoroughly  explored  the  neighborhood,  and  failed 
to  find  a  hint  of  interest  in  any  of  the  Shere- 
ling  inhabitants.  Even  the  tap-room  yokels  have 


OFF  WITH  THE  OLD  LOVE        243 

not  produced  a  stimulating  curiosity,  and  higher 
society  is  lacking  in  the  village.  The  squire  is 
away,  and  medical  and  legal  needs,  it  appears,  are 
supplied  from  Dallingham.  There  is  Mr. 
"Beckett,"  it  is  true;  but  he  plays  golf,  spending 
the  rest  of  his  time  in  his  bedroom,  repulsing  all 
overtures  of  friendship.  There  is  the  vicarage,  of 
course,  and  Mrs.  Peters  has  been  prevailed  upon  to 
invite  them  to  dinner,  for  the  vicar  is  a  friendly 
soul,  anxious  to  make  the  most  of  the  social  crumbs 
dropped  rarely  in  his  path.  Tony  and  Robert  have 
dined  there,  and  been  round  two  or  three  times 
to  smoke  a  pipe  and  inspect  the  roses;  but  Mrs. 
Peters  does  not  diffuse  an  atmosphere  of  comfort, 
and  the  vicar  himself  is  an  exhausted  fountain  after 
an  hour.  A  kindly,  cheerful  little  man;  but  sixty 
minutes'  prattle  is  as  much  as  Tony  can  bear.  Rob- 
ert might  find  a  longer  period  congenial,  but  he  is 
perpetually  ill-at-ease  under  his  cognomen  of  Bangs, 
fearful  of  betraying  himself,  inclined  to  blush  with- 
out apparent  cause.  Indeed,  if  it  were  not  for 
Tony,  Robert  might  have  given  up  the  pursuit  al- 
ready. Not  that  he  means  to  go  back  home  as  yet : 
liberty  is  still  precious;  and  adventures,  or  at  least 
unfettered  repose,  may  be  sought  at  Brighton  or 
Eastbourne  before  he  returns  to  nonentity.  But 


244  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

is  it  worth  while  waiting  at  Shereling,  where  the 
mysterious  Billy  is  never  seen,  where  the  remem- 
brance of  the  strange  lady  is  daily  growing  fainter  ? 
It  looks  very  much  as  if  that  bright  spark  of  ro- 
mance has  been  extinguished:  how  can  he  hope  to 
blow  it  into  flame  once  more?  Tony,  the  incom- 
parable Tony,  the  man  of  many  schemes,  has  noth- 
ing to  suggest :  he  only  says  "  Patience,"  and  Rob- 
ert is  growing  restive. 

But  why  does  Tony  depart  so  far  from  his  usual 
attitude  as  to  say  "  Patience  "  ?  As  a  rule,  an  ad- 
venture or  an  experience  can  hold  him  but  for  a 
day  or  two, —  a  week  is  almost  unthinkable.  And 
now,  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  he  still  says  "  Pa- 
tience "  —  unruffled,  imperturbable,  productive  of 
threadbare  platitudes  as  to  the  building  of  Rome, 
apparently  hopeful.  The  simple  reason  is  that  Tony 
has  not  seen  his  card-dropping  divinity  again,  and 
he  hates  being  balked. 

In  a  word,  the  pair  of  them  had  waited,  watched 
and  spied  for  fourteen  days  without  result.  There 
had  been  night  vigils  as  well  as  by  day,  but  nothing 
had  been  learned.  After  dusk  set  in  they  had  some- 
times watched  for  hours,  Tony  hiding  in  a  ditch 
near  the  front  gate,  Robert  at  the  back.  The  gos- 
sip of  Miss  Arkwright's  nocturnal  motoring  had 


OFF  WITH  THE  OLD  LOVE        245 

reached  their  ears,  and  they  had  built  something  on 
this.  But  never  a  motor  had  they  seen  approach 
The  Quiet  House.  One  dreadful  night  they  watched 
till  dawn  broke  clear  and  stark,  but  two  colds  in 
the  head  were  all  that  came  to  birth.  Their  watch- 
ings  were  a  failure. 

Miss  Arkwright  and  "  Billy  "  might  never  have 
existed.  The  servants  were  useless.  Only  Forbes 
and  the  gardener  issued  from  The  Quiet  House,  after 
their  day's  work  was  over:  both  were  dumb.  In- 
corruptible, too,  for  when  the  ingenious  Tony  pro- 
duced a  pencil  and  paper,  meeting  the  gardener  on 
the  road  as  if  by  chance,  holding  half-a-crown  for 
a  lure,  the  man  made  signs  that  he  could  not  use  a 
pencil.  Forbes  was  of  stouter  stuff.  Tony  waylaid 
him  one  evening  at  half  past  nine.  Thoroughly  dis- 
heartened by  this  time,  regretting  that  he  had  offered 
the  gardener  so  small  a  sum  (for  he  had  afterward 
imagined  that  the  man  might  have  been  playing  a 
part),  Tony  unmasked  his  batteries.  "Look  here, 
my  man,"  he  said  bluntly,  "  you  are  a  servant  at 
The  Quiet  House.  I  want  some  information  and 
am  willing  to  pay  for  it.  If  you'll  just  write  down 
answers  to  a  few  questions  I'll  give  you  a  five-pound 
note."  Forbes'  eyes  glistened,  and  he  took  the  pen- 
cil. Tony's  heart  leaped  as  he  saw  him  diligently 


246  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

scribing.  He  snatched  the  paper  and  read,  "  I  am 
sorry,  sir,  but  I  can  not  write."  Tony  swore,  as 
Forbes  passed  meekly  on.  He  was  not  used  to  be- 
ing beaten  by  a  servant. 

To-day  they  were  at  the  vicarage  for  tea,  and  tea 
alone.  The  hospitable  vicar  had  suggested  dinner 
—  lunch  as  a  pis-aller.  But  his  wife  said,  "No," 
and  he  was  obliged  to  submit.  The  previous  dinner 
had  caused  domestic  friction,  and  Mrs.  Peters  did 
not  mean  to  run  any  further  risks.  She  was  a  lady 
who  had  the  not  wholly  unworthy  wish  to  make  a 
fair  show  in  the  flesh:  they  entertained  seldom,  but 
when  they  did  entertain  she  was  resolved  to  do  things 
well.  Soup,  chicken  (boiled  or  roast),  cold  lamb 
(palpably  uncut  and  not  an  economical  remnant  to 
bring  the  blush),  at  least  three  sweets,  and  certainly 
cheese-straws, —  these  were  the  least  a  self-respect- 
ing woman  could  offer  to  the  vicarage  guests.  The 
vicar,  being  a  sensible  man,  would  have  been  quite 
pleased  to  "present"  (like  Mr.  Frohman)  a  simple 
meal.  Soup,  a  joint  with  the  usual  supporters  of 
potatoes  and  boiled  celery  —  his  own  failing  —  a 
bramble  tart,  and  a  bit  of  Stilton, —  these  were  the 
cates  he  deemed  worthy  of  kings.  But  the  house- 
keeping pride  of  his  lady  forbade  so  inelegant  a 
repast.  "  I  like  my  guests  to  see  that  I  know  how 


OFF  WITH  THE  OLD  LOVE         247 

things  ought  to  be  done  and  are  done,  Charles," 
she  said  in  a  final  tone :  "  I  will  not  have  people 
saying  that  the  vicarage  ..."  and  the  rest.  The 
vicar  had  given  way  with  a  sigh,  reserving  himself 
for  the  battle  he  knew  must  follow. 

It  had  come  at  once.  Mrs.  Peters,  profuse  to 
lavishness  over  the  more  solid  items,  betrayed  a 
feminine  false  economy  over  the  wine.  There 
ought  to  be  wine,  of  course.  Though  she  was  a 
teetotaler  herself,  still  she  knew  that  her  guests 
should  be  offered  the  juice  of  the  grape.  But  on 
the  desirability  of  spending  large  sums  for  liquid 
that  would  vanish  in  a  twinkling  she  held  strong 
views.  "  You  need  not  dream,  Charles,  of  wasting 
money  on  expensive  brands.  I  saw  some  invalid 
port  at  the  grocer's  this  morning  .  .  ."  But  here 
her  husband  showed  himself  unusually  pig-headed. 
He  grew  rigid  at  the  words  "  invalid  port."  "  No, 
Clara,"  he  said  resolutely ;  "  I  won't  have  that  at  any 
price  —  even  the  grocer's.  I  believe  in  good  things, 
or  none  at  all.  I'd  sooner  drink  water  than  poor 
wine.  We  can't  afford  good  port,  but  we  can  afford 
good  whisky  or  cider.  Those  it  shall  be."  He  was 
deaf  to  reason,  though  his  wife  begged  him,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  not  to  be  so  inconsiderate. 

Cider   it  had   been,    and   Mrs.    Peters   had    felt 


248,  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ashamed.  The  sight  of  three  men  quaffing  deeply 
of  the  plebeian  beverage  gave  no  comfort:  they  were 
doing  it  to  spare  her  feelings,  of  course,  and  she  re- 
sented the  unspoken  charity.  Besides,  she  did  not 
greatly  care  about  her  guests.  Mr.  Wild  seemed 
singularly  purposeless  for  a  young  man,  and  there 
was  a  half-veiled  mockery  in  his  speech  that  grated. 
Mr.  Bangs  was  clearly  of  inferior  breeding  and  did 
not  seem  at  ease.  He  talked  little  and  nervously, 
starting  at  the  mention  of  his  name.  "  He  can  not 
have  a  past,"  thought  Mrs.  Peters  grudgingly,  "  but 
he  is  certainly  not  used  to  the  society  of  gentle- 
people.  I  do  wish  Charles  would  not  .  .  ."  The 
dinner  was  not  a  success,  though  the  vicar  enjoyed 
the  post-prandial  smoke  and  small-talk. 

So  (leaving  our  muttons  to  return  to  them)  they 
were  at  tea  to-day.  Or  rather,  they  had  finished 
tea  and  were  taking  idly  on  the  lawn.  The  vicar 
was  lying  comfortably  in  a  basket-chair,  trying  to 
color  a  meerschaum.  Mrs.  Peters  was  busy  with 
embroidery.  Tony  and  Robert  in  deck-chairs  were 
smoking  too,  contributing  their  quota  to  the  conver- 
sation. To  complete  the  picture,  Brown,  the  odd- 
job  man,  was  delving  holes  destined  to  receive  the 
posts  of  a  pergola.  Mrs.  Peters'  eye  wandered 
from  her  work  and  dwelt  frigidly  on  him. 


249 

"  By  the  way,  Charles,"  she  said,  "  did  you  ever 
speak  to  Brown  about  that  young  woman  ?  " 

"What  young  woman?"  asked  the  vicar  lazily. 
Mrs.  Peters  recounted  the  incident. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  the  vicar.  "  You  could  not 
tell  me  her  name :  all  you  had  to  go  on  was  a  voice, 
and  I  could  hardly  catechize  him  on  that.  Besides, 
it  may  be  a  worthy  attachment." 

"  Very  possibly,"  agreed  his  wife,  though  her  tone 
was  skeptical.  "  I  have  no  objections  to  that.  But 
while  he  is  at  work  .  .  ." 

"  Awful  word !  "  said  Tony,  for  'the  sake  of  say- 
ing something.  "  I  wonder  what  work  is  like  — 
real  continuous  work,  I  mean." 

"  We  can  offer  you  plenty,"  said  the  vicar  cheer- 
fully. "  The  lawn  wants  cutting.  You  could  trim 
the  hedge,  too,  and " 

"  No  thanks,"  said  Tony  with  a  shudder.  "  Any 
other  time  I'd  be  glad,  but  just  now  I'm  too  busy." 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Wild,  my  husband  was  joking. 
But  don't  you  think  that  an  idle  life  ...  ?  Would 
not  work  —  literary  work,  for  example  —  be  a  good 
thing  for  a  young  man?  " 

"  I'm  too  old  to  begin,"  said  Tony  wearily. 
"  Now,  a  hearty  young  spark  like  my  friend 
Bangs " 


250  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

The  spark  flickered  into  a  feeble  flame  of  protest 
and  died  away. 

"  You're  wrong,  Mr.  Wild,"  said  the  vicar,  taking 
his  pipe  out.  "  Work  is  the  best  thing.  You'd 
realize  it  if  you  tried  it.  Of  course,  now  you're  on 
a  holiday  - 

"Am  I?"  said  Tony.  "I'm  a  kind  of  bear- 
leader to  Bangs.  I'm  simply  full-up  with  work, 
looking  after  him  —  arranging  schemes  for  his  com- 
fort —  keeping  him  out  of  mischief.  Aren't  I, 
Bangs?" 

Robert  smiled  in  a  deprecating  way.  "  You  — 
you  exaggerate  a  little.  But* — but  — 

Mrs.  Peters  disliked  the  cynical  frivolity  Tony 
imparted  to  the  conversation.  "  Would  you  mind 
telling  us  the  nature  of  some  of  these  arduous 
duties  ?  "  she  asked  coldly. 

"  Oh,  there's  a  gay  lot,"  said  Tony,  reflecting. 
"  I've  had  to  order  lunch,  for  example :  Bangs  has 
no  ideas.  Then  I  organize  walks  .  .  .  and  deal 
the  hands  at  piquet  in  the  evenings  .  .  .  and  .  .  . 
by  jove,  yes !  I  promised  to  help  him  telephone  to- 
day, if  you  wouldn't  mind?" 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  the  vicar,  the  sole  possessor  of 
a  telephone  in  Shereling.  He  rose  and  stretched 
himself.  "  Come  along  now." 


OFF  WITH  THE  OLD  LOVE        251 

But  Robert  remained  in  his  chair,  looking  decid- 
edly uneasy.  "  No,  no !  "  he  said  with  a  frightened 
manner.  "  It  is  nothing.  It  will  keep  for  a  day 
or  two.  There  is  really  no  necessity.  .  .  ."  He 
began  to  stammer  and  blush,  aware  of  the  eye  of 
Mrs.  Peters. 

"You  promised!"  said  Tony  reproachfully. 
Then  turning  to  the  lady  he  said,  "  Come,  Mrs. 
Peters !  You  can't  say  that  I  lack  energy  now ! 
Here  am  I,  thirsting  to  get  work,  and  old  Bangs 
keeps  me  back.  And  only  yesterday  he  said  that 
nothing  on  earth  should  prevent  him  from  at  last  — 
at  long  last " 

"  All  right,"  interrupted  Robert,  in  terror  of  what 
Tony  would  say  next.-  "  Come  along !  Come 
along !  Where  is  the  telephone,  Mr.  Peters  ?  " 

"  In  the  dining-room,"  replied  the  vicar,  wonder- 
ing. "  I'll  show  you  the  way." 

They  went  into  the  house,  leaving  Mrs.  Peters 
on  the  lawn,  deeply  stirred.  "  That  man  has  a 
past,"  she  determined.  "  He  looked  simply  terri- 
fied. I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  ask  Charles.  ...  I 
wonder  if  it  would  be  right  to.  ...  And  they  are 
strangers  .  .  .  one  never  knows.  .  .  ."  She 
thought  sternly  for  a  moment  and  then  got  up,  reso- 
lution in  her  countenance.  "  It's  a  duty,"  she  mur- 


252  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

mured  —  "a    positive    duty.     And    Charles    is    so 
weak." 

The  martyr  to  duty  was  going  to  listen  at  the 
door. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

TONY   AT    WORK    AND   AT    PLAY 

IF  the  telephone  had  been  in  the  vicar's  study 
Mrs.  Peters  might  have  watched  in  vain ;  for  to 
acquire  accurate  information  through  a  keyhole 
needs  practise  or  unusually  keen  ears.  But  the  vicar 
wanted  perfect  quiet  to  prepare  his  sermons,  and  it 
was  agreed  that  the  instrument  should  be  placed 
in  the  dining-room.  This  suited  Mrs.  Peters  ad- 
mirably, for  there  was  a  dumb-waiter  between  that 
room  and  the  pantry.  Standing  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hatch  (which  she  raised  with  caution  a  couple 
of  inches)  she  could  hear  all  that  passed,  secure  in 
the  reflection  that  a  screen  concealed  the  hatch  and 
butler's  tray.  This  is  what  she  heard  as  soon  as 
the  vicar  had  left  the  room. 

"Mr.  Wild,  I  told  you  that  I  would  rather 
not " 

"  Duty,  Bangs,  duty !  Remember  that !  You've 
allowed  your  unhappy  wife  to  mourn " 

"No,  no!     I  thought  it  better  not  to  write  just 

yet,  in  case " 

253 


254  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Pure  funk,  and  nothing  else.  No,  Bangs ;  you 
ought  to  let  her  know  —  you  ought  to  have  let  her 
know  before  this.  Besides,  there's  no  danger:  she 
can't  spot  where  you  are." 

("Then  there  is  a  mystery!"  reflected  Mrs. 
Peters,  warm  with  the  satisfaction  of  a  justified 
eavesdropping.  "  He  has  left  his  wife!  ") 

"  N  —  no  .  .  .  but  .  .  ." 

"  Seriously,  Bangs,  you  must  telephone.  Every 
day  you  delay  brings  a  possible  pursuit  closer. 
Come  now !  Shall  I  ring  up  ?  " 

"No,  no!  Wait  half  a  minute  while  I  think  of 
something  to  say.  How  shall  I  begin?  Shall 
I " 

"  Oh,  the  usual  sort  of  greeting  from  a  husband 
to  a  wife:  'Good  morning,  little  bunch  of  fluff!' 
Or,  '  Cheeroh,  beloved  armful ! '  Any  pet  name  — 
look  here,  you'd  better  let  me " 

A  confused  sound  hinted  to  Mrs.  Peters  that  a 
struggle  for  the  receiver  was  in  progress.  It  ended 
speedily  in  a  victory  for  Mr.  Bangs.  His  voice  quav- 
ered a  number  — "  Bloomsbury,  8436."  Mrs. 
Peters  made  a  mental  note. 

"Hello  .  .  .  hello  ...  are  you  8436?  Yes? 
.  .  .  Who's  that?  Hello!  Who's  that?  Oh,  it's 
you,  Jane  .  .  .  tell  your  mistress  —  hello!  You 


TONY  AT  WORK  AND  AT  PLAY      255 

silly  girl,  it  is  me."  ("  She's  had  a  fright,  Mr.  Wild. 
I  ought  to  have  broken  the  news  more  gently.") 
"  What  ?  Do  speak  up  ...  yes  .  .  .  yes  .  .  . 
you've  sat  down  on  the  porcelain  bowl  on  the  hall 
table  ?  Confound !  .  .  .  what  for  ?  What  for,  you 
clumsy  ...  oh !  I  frightened  you  ...  oh  ...  oh 
...  I  see  .  .  .  Well,  go  on  ...  Yes  .  .  .  no,  per- 
haps it  wasn't  altogether  your  fault  .  .  .  yes  .  .  . 
All  right  ...  all  right,  that's  quite  enough.  I  know 
you're  sorry  .  .  .  yes  .  .  .  Tell  your  mistress  I 
want  to  speak  to  her  .  .  .  She's  in  the  kitchen? 
Well,  go  and  fetch  her.  Don't  hang  the  receiver 
up.  Yes  .  .  .  yes  .  .  . 

"  She's  gone  to  fetch  her,  Mr.  Wild !  " 

"  The  plot  thickens,  Bangs,  I  say,  shall  I  take 
the  receiver  and  telephone?  Rather  a  lark,  you 
know,  your  wife  expecting  you  and  hearing  me  in- 
stead." 

"No,  no!" 

"  I  won't  address  her  in  terms  of  affection,  if  that's 
all  you're  afraid  of.  Besides,  I  should  rather  like 
to  hear  what  she  says  to  her  peccant  husband." 

"  Not  for  anything,  Mr.  Wild.  .  .  .  Hush !  here 
she  is.  ...  Is  that  you,  Alicia?  Wheeee!  Wheee! 
.  .  .  I'm  exceedingly  sorry,  my  dear  .  .  .  no,  I 
wasn't  laughing  —  something  wrong  with  the  wire. 


256  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

.  .  .  Well,  how  are  you?  .  .  .  That's  good  ...  I 
do  hope  you  haven't  been  worrying.  .  .  .  What? 
...  Oh  ...  oh  ...  ah  ..."("  She  says  I'm  not 
worth  worrying  about !  "  "  Cover  it  UP,  you  fool ! 
She'll  hear  you!")  .  .  .  "  Eh?  .  .  .  no  .  .  .  nobody 
else  here,  my  love  .  .  .  quite  alone — quite  alone 
.  .  .  the  wire  .  .  ."  ("What's  that?  Magnetic 
storm?")  .  .  .  "  Magnetic  storm,  Alicia !  Plug's 
not  firmly  in,  perhaps.  .  .  .  Well,  you're  all  right, 
then?  Anything  else?  .  .  Oh,  me!  Oh,  I'm  in 
capital  form  .  .  .  What?  .  .  .  Yes,  that's  all 
.  .  .  What?  .  .  .  Oh,  I  thought  I'd  better  ring 
up  to  let  you  know  how  I  was  getting  on.  ... 
Yes  .  .  .  yes  ...  I  shall  come  back  presently 
.  .  .  No  ...  no  ...  absolutely  no.  ...  I  can't 
possibly  tell  you  my  present  address  .  .  .  but  you 
needn't  worry.  I'm  quite  all  right  .  .  .  eh?  .  .  . 
No  .  .  .  I'm  not  unfeeling  —  this  is  just  my  holi- 
day. I  shall  be  back  in  a  few  weeks.  I  send  you 
my  love.  Good-by." 

"That  do,  Mr.  Wild?" 

"  You  might  send  a  kiss,  eh  ?  Usual  thing  .  .  . 
try  again  —  I  bet  she's  not  left  the  wire." 

"Hello  .  .  .  hello!  You  there,  Alicia?  .  .  . 
Wheeee!  ...  I  just  rang  up  —  wheee  —  to  send 
you  a  kiss.  .  .  .  Good-by." 


TONY  AT  WORK  AND  AT  PLAY      257 

"  So  we've  set  her  mind  at  rest,  Bangs.  You 
lost  your  funk  pretty  soon !  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Wild,  somehow  .  .  .  it's  not  quite 
the  same  thing  talking  to  Alicia  from  a  distance 
...  I  felt  quite  brave !  " 

"  Perfect  hero !  .  .  .  Now  we've  settled  that, 
let's  go  and  find  the  dragon  in  the  garden." 

They  found  the  vicar,  but  not  the  dragon,  who 
was  lashing  her  tail  in  the  pantry,  impotent,  speech- 
less, aflame  with  anger.  To  hear  herself  called  a 
dragon,  and  by  a  pair  of  unprincipled  adventurers! 
One  of  them,  it  appeared,  was  a  man  who  had  run 
away  from  his  wife;  the  other,  an  idle  fribble  who 
might  be  anything.  "  Thank  Heaven  I  have  no 
daughter  in  the  house !  "  thought  Mrs.  Peters  in  a 
paroxysm  of  resentful  propriety.  "  Who  could  feel 
safe  with  such  men  about?  And  this  comes  of 
Charles  picking  up  chance  acquaintances  in  a  com- 
mon tavern !  Oh,  I  must  go  and  tell  him  —  expose 
them  at  once !  The  impudent  hypocrites !  " 

On  the  threshold  she  paused.  Was  it  because, 
despite  her  justification,  she  did  not  feel  anxious  to 
mention  the  vigil  in  the  pantry  ?  Or  was  it  due  to  a 
wifely  consideration  for  a  husband's  weakness  ?  She 
chose  to  believe  the  latter.  "  Charles  will  not  have 
the  moral  courage  to  expel  them  from  the  vicarage !  " 


258  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

she  reflected.  "He  is  pitifully  craven  in  such  mat- 
ters. I  must  manage  it  myself.  ...  I  had  better 
wait  and  watch.  .  .  .  They  may  have  any  designs. 
.  .  .  Perhaps  I  had  better  wait,  and  then  .  .  ." 
A  smile,  terrific  in  severity  and  menace,  writhed  her 
lips.  Some  signal  act  of  vengeance  was  evidently 
maturing.  "  Yes!  I  will  wait!  " 

On  the  lawn  she  found  Tony.  Compelling  her- 
self to  speak  without  undue  hostility,  she  learned 
that  the  vicar  had  carried  Robert  off  to  inspect  the 
greenhouse.  Mrs.  Peters,  on  the  plea  of  a  message, 
followed.  She  could  not  trust  herself  with  Robert 
or  his  accomplice.  "  Is  it  he  who  has  led  Mr.  Bangs 
astray,  or  the  other  way  about?"  she  wondered 
viciously.  "  They  both  seem  to  be  most  undesirable ; 
but  Mr.  Bangs  is  older  and  ought  to  know  better. 
Besides,  he  has  a  wife."  Had  she  known  of  Tony's 
matrimonial  vicissitudes  she  would  have  fainted. 

The  odd-job  man  had  just  finished  his  digging, 
and  Tony  strolled  over  to  exchange  a  word :  he 
never  despaired  of  finding  interest  in  the  most  un- 
promising material.  Chats  with  para-orators,  en- 
thusiastic Salvationists,  members  of  the  Junior  Turf 
Club,  constellations  of  the  stage,  even  housemaids 
taking  in  the  milk, —  all  might  be,  and  often  were, 


TONY  AT  WORK  AND  AT  PLAY      259 

instruments  in  the  warfare  against  boredom.  All 
were  fish  for  his  net.  But  it  must  be  confessed  that 
his  catch  had  hitherto  been  of  little  value.  He  had 
bought  a  few  centimes'  worth,  paying  for  it  with 
numerous  rouleaus,  and  he  was  beginning  dimly  to 
wonder  if  it  was  not  rather  an  extravagant  method 
of  exchange. 

"  Done?  "  he  asked  laconically,  and  Henry  Brown 
smiled  with  content. 

"  That's  a  good  job  jobbed,"  he  replied.  "  Shift- 
ing earth  is  healthy,  sir,  but  it  takes  doing." 

"D'you  like  it?"  said  Tony;  "  I  mean,  d'you 
find  it  interesting  and  all  that,  or  do  you  pant  after 
the  higher  life?  More  wages  and  less  work,  and  so 
forth,  I  mean?  " 

The  odd- job  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It's  my  job,  sir,"  he  said  philosophically.  "  I 
can't  say  it's  amazing  interesting,  but  it's  my  job, 
and  it's  got  to  be  done." 

"  Got  to  be  done,"  repeated  Tony,  musing.  "  I 
suppose  it  has  ...  by  some  one.  Thank  goodness 
it's  not  to  be  done  by  me.  Tell  me,  Brown,  what 
do  you  really  think  of  work?  Does  it  bore  you  or 
what?  Do  you  think  it's  a  good  thing,  so  to  speak? 
You  needn't  mind  speaking  out  —  the  vicar  can't 


260  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

hear,  and  I'm  a  man  of  the  world  and  all  that.  Tell 
me,  does  work  bore  you  to  tears  ?  " 

The  other  smiled. 

"  Work's  kept  many  a  man  straight,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  I  should  be  sorry  to  be  without." 

"You  really  mean  that?"  asked  Tony  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  I  do,  sir.     Don't  you  think  the  same?  " 

Tony  did  not  answer,  but  reflected  for  at  least 
a  minute.  Then  he  took  off  his  coat  and  turned  up 
his  shirt-sleeves  with  a  whimsical  smile.  "  I 
haven't  worked  for  years,"  he  said :  "  kept  myself 
fit  with  developers  and  other  horrors.  Lend  me 
your  spade,  will  you?  I  want  a  new  thrill." 

Brown  laughed,  but  obeyed.  Tony  began  to  dig, 
steadily  and  resolutely,  at  a  spot  where  another  post 
was  to  be  planted.  He  did  not  attack  the  task  too 
vehemently,  as  many  an  amateur  would  have  done, 
for  he  had  brains.  But  he  dug  faithfully,  and  at 
the  end  of  ten  minutes  he  was  more  than  hot.  He 
did  not  give  in,  however,  but  dug  on  till  the  task  was 
accomplished.  Then  he  threw  down  the  spade, 
wiped  his  forehead  and  stretched  himself.  Brown 
watched  him  curiously. 

"Had  enough,  sir?" 

"  For    the    present,    yes,"    said    Tony.     "  One 


TONY  AT  WORK  AND  AT  PLAY      261 

mustn't  suck  pleasure  to  the  dregs.  But  I'll  admit 
it's  not  a  bad  sort  of  notion  on  the  whole,  this  work. 
In  small  doses  it  might  even  be  admirable  —  a  kind 
of  aperitif,  you  know.  But,  regarded  as  a  habit 
.  .  .  that  would  need  further  consideration.  Where 
can  I  find  a  tap  ?  " 

"  Behind  that  fence,  sir.  .  .  ." 

Tony  went  to  cleanse  his  hands,  leaving  the  odd- 
job  man  chuckling.  "  Rum  customer,"  he  mur- 
mured :  "  a  very  rum  customer,  indeed.  Oh,  very 
rum!  Everything's  rum,  when  you  come  to  think 
of  it  —  more  than  rum.  .  .  .  Things  seem  to  get 
rummer  every  day.  .  .  ." 

Tony  thought  the  same  as  he  stood  drying  his 
hands  upon  the  grass  and  a  handkerchief  behind  the 
fence.  The  tap  was  screened  from  the  lawn  by  the 
aforesaid  fence,  from  the  road  by  the  privet-hedge. 
And  as  he  dried  and  mused,  steps,  the  light  tapping 
of  small  feet,  could  be  heard  approaching  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hedge.  From  a  subconscious  strat- 
egy —  caused  by  a  deep-set  mysterious  instinct  — 
he  waited  till  the  steps  had  gone  past.  Then  he 
peeped  through  the  hedge  and  nearly  whooped.  For, 
retreating,  he  observed  the  neat  figure  of  his  damsel 
of  the  visiting-card.  Joy  was  excusable,  for  he  had 
not  seen  her  again  since  their  encounter. 


262  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

His  first  impulse  was  to  whistle.  This  he  checked 
on  the  score  of  vulgarity  and  bethought  him  what 
course  would  be  best.  Should  he  break  through  a 
weak  spot  in  the  hedge,  leaving  comrade  Bangs  to 
his  own  devices,  or  should  he  make  formal  but  hasty 
adieux  and  pursue  in  the  hope  of  overtaking?  The 
latter  was  clearly  the  more  correct  procedure,  but 
Tony's  heart  yearned  regretfully  over  the  girl  in 
the  road.  She  looked  such  a  perfect  pet!  Luckily 
he  was  not  called  on  to  make  an  immediate  decision, 
for  she  stopped  a  few  yards  farther  on  and  gazed 
around.  Tony  concealed  himself  in  such  a  way 
that  he  might  still  keep  an  eye  upon  her.  What 
was  she  waiting  for?  He  was  not  left  long  in 
doubt,  for  she  gave  a  low  but  melodious  whistle. 
The  whistle  was  answered  in  the  same  key. 
"  Brown,  by  all  that's  wonderful !  "  muttered  Tony. 
"  The  lucky  dog !  No  wonder  he  doesn't  find  work 
dull." 

If  he  expected  a  love-passage  he  was  disappointed. 
The  girl,  as  soon  as  her  whistle  was  returned,  flung 
a  piece  of  paper  over  the  hedge  and  walked  quickly 
away.  Tony  gave  the  odd- job  man  time  to  pick  up 
the  billet  and  presently  strolled  round,  still  drying 
his  hands. 

"Clean,  sir?"   asked  the  odd-job  man  stolidly. 


TONY  AT  WORK  AND  AT  PLAY      263 

After  all,  the  privet  was  thick  and  Tony  might  not 
have  seen. 

"  Yes,  thanks.  ...  I  say,  Brown,  I've  been 
thinking  over  what  you  said  about  work  just  now. 
It  seems  to  me  that  there's  quite  a  lot  to  be  said 
for  it." 

"Yes,  sir?" 

"  I  should  like  to  know  more  ...  to  hear  a  little 
more  about  the  practical  side  of  the  question  before 
making  up  my  mind  as  to  its  intrinsic  worth.  I 
wonder  if  you'd  care  to  smoke  a  pipe  and  try  the 
cider  of  The  Happy  Heart  with  me  to-night?  " 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Brown,  betraying  no 
surprise,  "  but  I'm  afraid  I'm  too  busy." 

"  To-morrow,  then  .  .  ." 

"  Busy  to-morrow,  sir,  too." 

"  Sunday  an  off  day?  " 

"  To  be  frank,  sir,  I  have  a  young  lady  .  .  ." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Tony,  hoping  to  hear  something. 
"  I  won't  press  you  then.  I  wish  you  luck." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

There  was  a  brief  silence  that  Tony  felt  oppres- 
sive. He  was  the  first  to  break  it. 

"  Been  engaged  long,  Brown?  " 

"  No,  sir.     Not  very  long." 

Another   silence.     The   impenetrability   of   these 


264  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

yokels  is  not  exhilarating.     Tony  felt  chilled,  disap- 
pointed.    He  tried  again. 

"  I  suppose  it's  almost  as  engrossing  as  work, 
Brown?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  almost" 

He  said  it  without  a  smile,  as  if  he  was  quite  se- 
rious. But  Tony  suspected  him  of  being  guileful. 
Clearly  it  was  useless  to  prolong  the  conversation. 
He  sighed. 

"  Well,  I  must  look  for  my  friend.  Good-by, 
Brown.  Do  come  and  talk  to  me  about  work  some- 
time, when  the  lady  is  otherwise  engaged." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

Tony  moved  off  to  find  Robert.  He  was  discov- 
ered in  the  kitchen-garden,  pretending  to  admire 
vegetable-marrows.  Mrs.  Peters  was  hovering 
grimly  in  the  rear,  a  silent  watchful  figure.  The 
vicar  was  dilating  on  the  excellence  of  marrow  jam. 
After  saying  good-by,  Tony  and  Robert  went  off  to 
the  inn.  The  vicar  turned  to  his  wife  with  a  smile. 

"  Quite  a  pleasant  afternoon,  my  dear.  I  like 
Mr.  Bangs.  Mr.  Wild,  too,  is  amusing,  though 
cynical.  But  we  mustn't  judge  too  harshly  —  per- 
haps he  has  had  a  disappointment  and  his  cynicism 
is  half-assumed.  Undoubtedly  humorous  and 
clever.  Some  of  his  shots  hit  the  mark." 


TONY  AT  WORK  AND  AT  PLAY      265 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Peters  icily.  "  I  dis- 
like them  both.  Mr.  Bangs,  to  say  the  least,  is  any- 
thing but  quiet;  Mr.  Wild,  I  am  sure,  is  a  man  who 
has  had  a  gentleman's  education  and  lapsed.  Super- 
ficially clever,  perhaps,  but  vulgar.  You  made  a 
mistake  in  taking  them  up." 

"  No,  no,  my  dear !  Be  a  little  more  char- 
itable  " 

"  A  great  mistake,  Charles.  But  you  always  think 
you  know  best.  What  I  insist  on  is  principle. 
Nothing  can  compensate  for  the  lack  of  that.  Prin- 
ciple above  cleverness " 

The  vicar  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  Why !  what  a  dragon  of  virtue " 


He  got  no  farther.  Mrs.  Peters  suddenly  as- 
sumed so  dreadful  an  aspect  that  he  shrank  aghast 
and  began  to  fumble  for  excuses. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   PLOT   AGAIN   THICKENS 

AT  the  end  of  three  more  days  Lionel  was  feel- 
ing a  little  ill-used.  There  was  still  no  word 
from  Beatrice,  and  the  watching  brief  he  held  began 
to  look  like  a  permanency.  A  sinecure,  you  remark 
disparagingly,  or  (with  an  envious  inflection)  a  soft 
job.  Lionel  had  a  roof  above  him,  luxurious  food, 
money  in  his  pocket  and  a  pretty  hostess :  he  would 
be  a  churl  who  grumbled,  a  witless  being  who  did 
not  know  when  he  was  well  off. 

But  nevertheless  he  grumbled.  He  wanted  to  be 
up  and  doing.  Dalliance  was  delightful,  no  doubt, 
and  he  could  thoroughly  enjoy  so  pleasant  a  pastime. 
But  he  required  a  soupgon  of  the  serious  to  edge  his 
palate  for  frivolity,  and  not  a  single  olive  had  been 
sent  him  from  headquarters.  Beatrice  might  have 
written,  surely:  not  necessarily  a  letter,  but  a  note, 
a  telegram,  even  a  picture  post-card  was  not  too 
much  to  have  expected.  After  all,  he  was  a  human 

being  trying  to  do  her  a  good  turn.     She  might,  if 

266 


THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS       267 

she  liked,  consider  him  in  the  light  of  a  dog;  but 
even  a  dog  demands  an  occasional  pat. 

Yes,  Beatrice  had  been  a  little  inconsiderate. 
When  they  met  again  he  would  subtly  convey  that 
she  had  not  been  quite  so  perfect  in  her  handling  of 
the  case  as  she  might  have  been.  Not  blame  —  oh, 
no!  that  would  be  too  severe.  But  a  touch  of  re- 
spectful and  adoring  frigidity  —  a  hint  of  polite  and 
ardent  disappointment,  that  was  the  note  to  be 
struck.  It  would  add  to  the  subsequent  reconcilia- 
tion, or  rather  readjustment.  Iced  champagne,  in 
short,  followed  by  liquor  brandy.  Finally  (per- 
haps .  .  .  who  knows?)  a  mixture  of  the  two,  com- 
pounding that  exhilarating  beverage,  king's  peg. 

But  that  could  only  be  drunk  post-mortem.  .  .  . 
Poor,  dear  old  Lukos.  .  .  .  Well,  for  the  present 
he  must  sport  the  blue  ribbon.  .  .  . 

But  a  dog  will  have  its  pat:  if  the  mistress  will 
not  give  it,  another  may;  and  who  can  blame  the 
devoted  creature  if  it  lingers  piteously  hard  by  a 
stranger?  Again,  why  blame  the  stranger,  moved 
doubtless  by  a  kindly  and  an  unselfish  impulse  ?  Why 
•blame  Miss  Arkwright,  in  short,  for  growing  daily 
more  cordial,  more  appreciative,  more  anxious  to 
oblige  with  the  pat  ?  Lionel  was  obeying  the  orders 
of  Beatrice,  to  watch  and  do  the  bidding  of  his  hos- 


268  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

tess ;  he  could  not  be  expected  to  damp  her  gracious- 
ness,  check  her  enthusiasm :  had  he  done  so,  he  might 
have  sealed  the  source  of  some  important  informa- 
tion. He  must  endure  the  pat,  suffer  it,  permit,  ac- 
cept, not  refuse;  but  .  .  .  welcome? 

He  was  talking  to  her  in  the  garden  one  after- 
noon. They  had  begun  the  conversation  on  some 
trivial  theme,  soon  tossed  aside  for  a  subject  of 
substance.  It  was  not  long  before  they  were  on 
the  time-worn  topic,  the  war  of  the  sexes.  Miss 
Arkwright,  it  appeared,  was  a  suffragette  —  not 
militant,  certainly,  but  convinced  and  ardent.  She 
expressed  surprise  that  Lionel  did  not  take  similar 
views.  "  For  you,"  she  said  sweetly,  "  are  a  rea- 
sonable fair-minded  man.  And  I  should  think," 
she  added  mischievously,  "  that  you  have  many 
friends  who  might  convert  you." 

"  It  isn't  my  brain  that  wants  conversion,"  he 
replied  meditatively.  "  Most  of  the  arguments  are 
on  the  women's  side.  Logic  tells  me  they  should 
have  the  vote ;  feeling  —  and  by  feeling  I  don't  mean 
prejudice  or  bigotry,  but  something  deeper  —  re- 
coils from  the  idea  of  women  in  parliament.  And 
it  would  mean  that  in  the  long-run.  Let  us  keep 
them  out  of  the  dirty  work." 


THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS       269 

"  They  might  cleanse  the  stables." 

"  I'd  rather  not  We're  cleansing  them  gradu- 
ally, one  hopes :  at  any  rate,  it's  not  a  woman's 
job." 

"  Our  view  is  that  all  jobs  should  be  women's." 

"  Impossible."  He  shook  his  head.  "  I'm  one 
of  the  old-fashioned  believers  in  the  home  as 
woman's  sphere  — 

"  And  the  thousands  of  unmarried  workers  ?  You 
forget  them." 

"  Hard,  I  grant  you,  but  they're  a  minority. 
Most  women  have  the  home  sphere.  Mind,  I  don't 
believe  in  inequality  as  regards  laws :  they  should  be 
the  same  for  both." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  with  a  bitterness  that  surprised 
him,  "  look  at  the  inequalities  of  divorce,  for  in- 
stance." 

"  We'll  discuss  that  presently.  Look  for  a  mo- 
ment at  the  reverse  of  the  medal.  Hasn't  woman 
got  the  pull  in  influence  ?  Can't  she  sway  men  with- 
out the  vote?  " 

"  A  pretty  woman  or  a  clever  woman  can.  Not 
the  others." 

"  Ye  —  es.     Sex  counts." 

"So  you  leave  us  the  weapon  of  the  coquette? 


270  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

That's  what  it  amounts  to.  Is  that  a  desirable 
weapon?  Besides,  it's  double-edged." 

"  Rather  a  crude  way  of  putting  it,"  he  said  a  lit- 
tle uncomfortably.  "  Nature  has  given  you  a  power 
you  can  use  for  good.  Why  not  use  it?  " 

"  But  is  it  so  powerful  ?  " 

"Ondit." 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  She  bent  forward,  lean- 
ing to  him,  smiling  audaciously  in  his  eyes.  Lionel 
would  have  been  more  than  human  if  he  had  not 
felt  flattered.  This  delightful  creature,  whom  at  a 
first  meeting  he  had  thought  prudish  and  narrow, 
had  developed  amazingly.  Companionship  for  a 
fortnight  with  a  gay  man  of  spirit  and  address, 
who  did  not  lack  a  generous  nature,  had  brought  the 
bud  to  blossom.  Now  as  she  smiled  on  him  with 
inviting  eyes  he  felt  strongly  tempted  to  complete 
her  education  with  a  kiss.  He  temporized. 

"What  does  it  matter  what  I  think?" 

"  It  may  matter  a  good  deal/'  she  said  with  a 
meaning  he  could  not  fathom. 

"  Tell  me." 

She  explained  herself  curiously.  Instead  of 
speaking  she  was  silent  for  a  moment,  as  if  choos- 
ing a  course.  Then  with  a  friendly  abandon  she 
rested  her  hands  lightly  on  his  shoulders  and  said, 


THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS       271 

"  No.  You  shall  tell  me."  Then  she  waited  for  the 
inevitable  kiss. 

Man  is  a  strange  animal.  (I  apologize  for  this 
truism,  but,  really,  Lionel  himself  must  be  my  ex- 
cuse.) A  man  may  be  a  savage,  a  knave,  a  brute, 
but  beneath  every  human  bosom  there  lurk  some 
seeds  of  nobility,  however  few  and  atrophied. 
Juvenile  literature  abounds  with  loci  classici.  The 
thief  who  breaks  into  the  night  nursery  is  subdued 
by  the  innocent  prattle  of  Baby  Tumkins;  the 
drunken  osier  in  the  "  Pig  and  Whistle  "  is  sobered 
by  the  consumptive  angel  who  lisps,  "  Daddy,  dear 
daddy,  do  come  home!"  The  blasphemous  rav- 
isher,  mad  in  the  hour  of  victory,  is  tamed  by  the 
sight  of  a  locket  ("  Heavens!  how  came  this  here? 
Tell  me,  girl!")  and  drops  his  prey  with  an  oath 
that  is  half  a  prayer.  And  so  on  ...  one  need  not 
accumulate  examples. 

Lionel  did  not  kiss  Miss  Arkwright.  Though  he 
had  dwelt  on  the  possibility,  hoped  for  it,  almost 
schemed  and  certainly  desired;  though  he  had  de- 
cided that  his  grass-bachelorship  permitted  such  a 
kiss  as  was  now  offered,  he  refused.  Why? 
Partly,  no  doubt,  because  a  kiss  won  by  half-force- 
ful methods  is  worth  more  than  a  tribute  freely 
offered;  partly  because  the  offer  tends  to  congeal 


272  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

the  blood  and  curb  the  desire  —  the  ideal  has  stooped 
and  taken  a  few  inches  off  her  goddess  statue ;  partly, 
too  (the  moralist  will  be  glad  to  note),  because  he 
remembered  Beatrice. 

Seeds  of  nobility?  One  must  suppose  it.  Per- 
haps a  sense,  dim-recognized,  that  the  cheapening  of 
ideals  by  frequent  draughts  at  wayside  fountains  les- 
sens the  value  and  appreciation  of  the  ultimate  prize. 
Men  find  it  hard  to  resist  a  drink.  If  they  could 
look  forward  with  assurance  to  the  final  realization 
of  their  hopes  there  would  be  fewer  loveless  mar- 
riages, fewer  abandoned  maidens,  fewer  degenerate 
men.  But  they  feel  that  youth  slips  by  —  the  ideal 
woman  is  hard  to  find,  harder  to  win :  why  not  sip 
the  pleasant  fountain  that  will  slake  them  for  a  mo- 
ment ?  So,  vogue  la  galere!  We  will  have  one  swig 
before  we  die  —  a  good  swig  to  drown  regret:  if 
we  find  it  is  not  Veuve  Clicquot  but  only  muddy 
ale,  at  least  we  can  get  drunk  on  one  as  well  as  the 
other. 

These  profound  reflections  did  not  present  them- 
selves so  lucidly  to  Lionel  as  to  the  temperate  reader 
who  never  gets  drunk  —  never  so  much  as  sips.  He 
comprehended  them  vaguely,  unconsciously  almost, 
in  the  thought,  "  Oh,  damn !  she's  not  Beatrice  — 


THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS       273 

she's  not  Beatrice  —  I  can't."  A  man  of  unsettled 
purpose,  you  perceive,  who  had  mapped  his  course 
of  pleasure  and  then  forsaken  it,  vacillating,  luke- 
warm, halting  between  two  opinions.  "  The  evil 
that  I  would,  I  do  not ! "  he  thought  in  humorous 
astonishment  at  himself;  and  then  aloud,  "  I  am  at 
a  loss  for  words." 

He  felt  rather  a  fool,  but  was  pleased  to  note  that 
Miss  Arkwright  looked  neither  ill-at-ease  nor  dis- 
appointed. He  searched  her  countenance  for  a  hint 
of  contempt,  but  found  none.  Dropping  her  hands 
with  an  unaffected  laugh  she  said,  "  You  are  duller 
than  I  thought,  Mr.  Mortimer.  Come !  let  us  go  and 
see  if  they  have  brought  tea  out  yet"  They  turned, 
and  suddenly  her  face  flushed  scarlet.  She  drew  in 
her  breath  sharply.  Forbes  was  coming  across  the 
lawn,  followed  by  the  ambassador. 

She  ran  forward  and  shook  hands,  murmuring 
something  Lionel  did  not  hear.  Then,  as  Forbes 
retired,  she  introduced  the  two  men :  "  Mr.  Morti- 
mer—  Mr.  Beckett."  Lionel  surveyed  the  ambas- 
sador with  curiosity,  his  late-lulled  suspicions  once 
more  awake.  What  was  he  doing  here?  Mr. 
Beckett  returned  the  scrutiny  something  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  jealous  lover  who  would  like  an  explana- 


274  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

tion  of  a  stranger's  presence.  But  he  was  a  diplo- 
matic gentleman,  and  it  was  with  a  slight  laugh, 
merry  and  sincere,  that  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  We  have  met  before,"  he  said  in  a  friendly 
fashion,  "  but  under  less  happy  auspices.  Mr. 
Mortimer,  you  saw  me  under  a  cloud.  I  was  ex- 
ceedingly rude.  You  who  are  a  golfer  will  readily 
find  excuses,  I  hope.  I  am  very  sorry." 

Miss  Arkwright's  eyes  looked  anxiously  upon 
them.  When  had  they  met  and  where?  How  odd 
that  he  had  never  mentioned  it  once!  She  must 
hear  the  story  of  their  meeting;  and  "rude" — 
what  did  he  mean  by  that? 

Lionel  smiled  and  referred  her  to  the  ambassa- 
dor. He,  genuinely  anxious  to  atone  for  a  foolish 
contretemps,  did  not  spare  himself  in  the  recital. 
Miss  Arkwright  laughed  gaily  over  the  tale. 

"  Men  are  so  silly,"  she  said  merrily  as  he  fin- 
ished. "  Fancy  getting  angry  over  a  game  of  golf! 
And  all  by  yourself,  too!  If  there  had  been  some 
one  to  vent  your  rage  upon " 

"  Alas,  there  was !  "  said  Mr.  Beckett,  with  a 
whimsical  glance  at  Lionel,  who,  despite  himself 
and  his  suspicions,  felt  drawn  toward  the  enemy. 
It  was  a  friendly  party  of  three  that  walked  toward 
the  summer-house. 


THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS       275 

On  the  whole,  tea  was  a  successful  meal.  Miss 
Arkwright  led  the  conversation  —  monopolized  it, 
almost;  hardly  pausing  for  replies,  agreement,  or 
contradiction.  She  looked  splendid,  her  color 
heightened  with  pleasure,  excitement,  or  kindred 
emotions.  Lionel,  who  had  studied  her  attentively 
for  no  short  period,  had  never  seen  her  in  such  a 
mood.  She  was  gay  and  charming,  unusually  ready 
with  the  froth  of  sparkling  small-talk.  Any  one 
meeting  her  for  the  first  time  would  have  believed 
her  a  clever  Haneuse,  a  butterfly  with  brains  and 
beauty,  living  solely  for  the  moment.  But  Lionel, 
who  knew  her  better  and  had  some  secret  knowledge 
of  her  possibilities  for  intrigue  and  conspiracy,  found 
himself  questioning.  Was  she  nervous?  And  if 
so,  of  what? 

Mr.  Beckett  had  little  opportunity  to  display  his 
social  gifts.  The  abilities,  doubtless  great  to  secure 
his  present  office,  perforce  lay  hidden.  But  the  few 
sentences  he  uttered,  by  way  of  confirmation  or  its 
opposite,  were  enough  to  show  him  as  a  man  of 
original  thought,  some  wit,  and  in  close  touch  with 
the  affairs  of  nations.  An  old  man,  he  bore  his 
years  lightly;  though  the  mask  of  frivolity  he  as- 
sumed out  of  compliment  to  his  environment  was 
occasionally  dropped  in  moments  of  repose.  At 


276  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

* 

such  moments  he  appeared  tired  —  not  physically, 
but  of  mundane  trivialities. 

At  last  Winifred  rose.  "  You  know  my  routine," 
she  said  brightly  to  Lionel :  "  I  must  vanish  speedily. 
No !  don't  move.  Stay  here  and  smoke.  I  shall  es- 
cort Mr.  Beckett  — 

"  You  still,  then "  began  the  ambassador,  ris- 
ing at  the  hint.  She  interrupted  him  bruskly. 

"  Still  —  still  —  still !  Are  we  not  always  '  still- 
ing'? I  wonder  that  a  man  of  your  experience 
finds  anything  remarkable  in  that.  Oh,  do  not  in- 
terrupt ! " —  for  he  made  a  deprecating  gesture, 
opening  his  mouth  to  speak  — "  I  will  hear  no  ex- 
cuses for  banality.  '  The  ringing  grooves  of 
change  '  is  pure  fallacy ;  change  is  absent ;  only  the 
grooves  remain.  We  are  what  we  are.  As  it  was 
in  the  beginning,  is  now,  and  —  do  I  shock  you?  " 
she  asked  abruptly,  turning  to  Lionel. 

"  Surprise ;  not  shock,"  he  smiled. 

"  Then  you  owe  me  a  debt  of  gratitude.  Sur- 
prise is  one  of  nature's  best  gifts,  but  at  our  mature 
age  she  is  parsimonious.  Don't  you  agree,  Mr. 
Beckett?" 

He,  too,  smiled,  but  mournfully. 

"  I  have  more  need  to  count  my  birthdays  than 


277, 

you,"  he  said.  "If  your  surprises  are  few,  how 
many  can  I  hope  for?  " 

"Nil  desperandum!"  she  said  cheerfully  and  less 
self-consciously,  taking  him,  comrade-like,  by  the 
arm.  "  Come  and  find  your  motor:  perhaps  a  sur- 
prise is  waiting  —  some  ragamuffin  may  have  put  a 
penknife  through  the  tire!  " 

"  I  hope  not!  "  he  said  more  briskly.  "  As  it  has 
only  just  come  from  London  this  afternoon  to  take 
me  back  after  my  holiday,  I  don't  want  to  be  balked 
at  the  outset.  Well,  good-by,  Mr.  Mortimer." 

"  Good-by,"  said  Lionel,  shaking  hands.  "  No 
chance  of  seeing  you  down  here  again  presently,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

' '  Who  knows  ?  "  said  Miss  Arkwright  vivaciously, 
taking  the  words  from  his  lips.  "  A  dashing  ad- 
venturer like  Mr.  Beckett,  whose  only  serious  busi- 
ness is  golf " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  led  him  off, 
protesting  that  the  slander  was  ill-deserved.  Lionel 
watched  them  disappear,  heavy  with  thought. 

Miss  Arkwright  did  not  come  back.  He  was  glad 
of  her  absence,  for  he  could  only  think,  and  think, 
and  think  again  what  it  all  meant,  trying  to  find 
some  key  to  the  perpetual  problem.  There  were 


278  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Beatrice,  Winifred  and  the  ambassador  forever 
whirling  through  his  brain,  suggesting,  perplexing, 
questioning.  Where  was  the  clew?  If  only  he 
could  put  his  hand  on  some  definite  idea,  some  shred 
of  coherence  in  the  whole  amazing  scheme !  Beatrice 
had  warned  him  that  her  sister  and  "  Mr.  Beckett " 
were  conspiring.  Good:  that  was  definite,  and  the 
ambassador's  visit  was  proof  of  fellowship  —  in 
what?  High  politics?  The  life  of  Lukos?  It 
seemed  so  unlikely  in  this  pleasant  English  garden, 
but  the  facts  were  stubborn.  Then  he  had  not  heard 
from  Beatrice.  He  had  thought  she  and  Winifred 
might  be  identical.  .  .  .  Stay !  he  had  discarded  that. 
.  .  .  Let  us  begin  again  from  another  point.  Why 
had  Winifred  invited  his  amorous  interest?  She 
—  but  Beatrice  had  warned  him  —  unnecessarily, 
had  been  his  foolish  thought  —  against  the  wiles  of 
Winifred.  Her  seductive  friendship  had  been  sim- 
ply a  trap  .  .  .  but,  no!  the  remembrance  of  his  re- 
cent delectable  danger,  the  sincerity  of  her  —  love? 
the  faith  of  her  eyes  —  all  denied  a  trap.  Wini- 
fred could  not  be  a  conspirator;  at  worst  she  must 
be  a  half-hearted  conspirator  who  had  begun  to 
sympathize  with  her  enemies.  But  if  that  were  so, 
she  must  soon  be  on  the  side  of  Beatrice,  of  whom 
she  would  speedily  be  jealous!  His  brain  reeled. 


THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS      279 

The  sum  of  his  perplexed  musings  was  that  he 
must  keep  his  eyes  open, —  a  poor  result  for  so 
much  mental  effort.  That,  however,  was  all  he 
achieved  by  dinner-time,  and  he  sucked  small  com- 
fort therefrom.  "  I  am  not  made  for  detective 
work,"  he  reflected  gloomily  as  he  played  with  din- 
ner. "  I  went  into  this  adventure  too  light-heart- 
edly. I  thought  it  a  game.  ...  So  it  is,  and  deuc- 
edly  exciting  now,  but  I  don't  seem  to  have  mas- 
tered the  rules.  A  blind  man  in  a  total  eclipse 
looking  for  something  that  isn't  there, —  that's 
Lionel  Mortimer,  Esquire.  Old  man,  you'd  better 
have  a  drink." 

Sensations  were  crowding  thick  upon  him.  His 
uneventful  fortnight  was  to  bear  a  heavy  interest 
within  a  few  brief  hours.  In  the  library,  after 
further  futile  pondering,  he  tried  to  distract  his 
thoughts  with  books.  It  was  a  failure;  he  could 
not  concentrate  his  attention  on  printed  words  for 
more  than  five  minutes  together.  Always  he  came 
back  to  Beatrice  and  the  ramifications  reaching  from 
Constantinople  to  London  and  thence  to  Shereling. 
With  a  grunt  of  dissatisfaction,  he  got  up  at  last  at 
eleven  o'clock  and  knocked  out  his  pipe  upon  the 
hearth.  As  he  did  this  he  heard  a  slight  crunch  as 
pf  a  foot  upon  the  gravel.  He  turned  quickly  to- 


28o  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ward  the  French  window  and  saw  that  he  had  for- 
gotten to  draw  down  the  blind.  He  saw  something 
else  as  well.  For  a  brief  second  Lionel  had  a 
glimpse  —  the  barest  glimpse  —  of  a  white  face 
pressed  against  the  pane,  watching.  The  face  van- 
ished almost  before  the  retina  had  time  to  record 
the  impression,  but  he  knew  two  things  at  once  — 
it  was  a  man's  face,  and  a  man  he  had  never  seen 
before. 

Lionel  did  exactly  what  you  and  I  would  have 
done.  He  stood  stock-still  for  a  moment,  his  heart 
clop-clopping  against  his  ribs  as  if  intent  on  burst- 
ing its  way  through  to  the  light,  hammering  a  Morse 
message — "  You  are  badly  frightened,  you  are 
badly  frightened,  you  are  badly  frightened." 
"  Yes,"  said  Lionel,  after  three  seconds'  pardonable 
collapse,  "  I  am;  but  I'll  try  to  frighten  the  other 
chap! "  And  with  laudable  swiftness  he  ran  to  the 
window,  threw  it  open  and  called,  "  Who's  there  ?  " 

Of  course  there  was  no  answer.  With  a  thaw- 
ing of  the  faculties  he  ran  back,  seized  the  poker  and 
turned  off  the  light.  Then  he  stepped  outside  to 
look  for  the  night-prowler,  longing  for  some  tangi- 
ble flesh  to  beat  into  a  pulp. 

The  night  was  starless.  Not  a  breath  of  wind 
stirred  the  leaves.  Not  a  bird  twittered  a  hint  of 


THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS       281 

ambush.  Not  a  sound  on  gravel  or  swish  of  dew- 
laden  grass  brushed  by  a  spy's  foot  promised  ven- 
geance. Aglow  with  eagerness  now  that  action  was 
possible  and  a  clew  at  hand,  he  walked  round  the 
house,  eyes  and  ears  alert  for  the  marauder.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  seen.  It  was  only  too  clear  that 
the  watcher  by  night  had  escaped  the  moment  he 
was  seen,  and  no  good  purpose  could  be  served  by 
a  random  pursuit  in  the  dark.  Lionel  went  back 
to  the  library,  secured  the  windows  and  lighted  a 
fresh  pipe. 

Of  course  he  could  not  arouse  the  house.  If,  as 
seemed  certain,  this  watcher  were  a  Turkish  spy, 
it  would  be  absurd  to  enlist  Miss  Arkwright's  aid. 
Better  to  say  nothing,  still  watch  —  but  even  more 
narrowly  —  and  ...  go  to  bed. 

It  was  a  quarter  to  twelve  when  he  went  up- 
stairs, still  smoking.  His  bedroom  lay  at  the  end 
of  a  short  passage.  Anxious  not  to  disturb  any  one 
at  that  unseasonable  hour,  he  took  off  his  slippers 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  advanced  in  his  "  stock- 
ing-feet." Without  the  slightest  noise  he  tiptoed 
along  the  corridor.  Just  before  he  reached  his  room 
another  door  was  opened,  very  quietly  indeed,  upon 
his  right.  A  line  of  light  cut  the  blackness,  and 
Lionel  stood  still  involuntarily,  without  purpose, 


282  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

waiting,  expectant  of  something,  he  knew  not  what. 
The  door  opened  wide,  and  a  girl  in  a  pretty  pink 
dressing-gown  came  out.  It  was  not  Winifred  who 
threw  up  her  hands  at  the  sight  of  the  waiting 
Lionel.  It  was  Mizzi. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THRILL    UPON    THRILL 

THIS  time  Lionel  had  himself  well  in  hand:  he 
was  ready  for  anything.  It  was  no  occasion 
for  tenderness  or  chivalry:  brusk  silent  action  was 
the  cue.  Seizing  the  stricken  Mizzi  by  the  arm  with 
one  hand,  he  clapped  the  other  over  her  mouth  to 
prevent  a  scream.  Then  half-pushing,  half-drag- 
ging, he  forced  her  along  the  few  remaining  yards 
that  separated  them  from  his  bedroom.  She  strug- 
gled at  first,  but  soon  realized  her  helplessness  and 
allowed  him  to  have  his  way.  When  he  had  her 
safely  inside,  Lionel  locked  the  door  quietly  and  sat 
down  in  high  feather  on  the  bed.  He  felt  he  was 
beginning  to  earn  his  salary  at  last. 

"  Do  sit  down,"  he  suggested  politely.  "  We 
must  have  quite  a  long  conversation  before  we  part. 
I  can  recommend  the  armchair." 

Mizzi  shrugged  her  shoulders  philosophically  and 
obeyed.  She  was  breathing  a  little  quickly  from  the 
capture;  but  Lionel  noticed  that  she  was  as  charm- 
ing as  ever,  and  his  heart  harbored  a  rebellious 

thought.     "  Hard  luck  that  I  seem  to  be  always  try- 

383 


284  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ing  to  snare  a  pretty  girl !  "  he  mused.  "Well,  it 
must  be  no  nonsense  now,  my  friend.  Saint  An- 
thony, forward !  "  He  studied  Mizzi's  face  atten- 
tively for  a  minute,  and  then  asked  bluntly,  "  Now, 
will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  you  have  done  with 
those  papers  ?  " 

"What  papers?"  she  asked  with  surpassing  in- 
nocence. "  I  have  no  idea  what  you  mean." 

"  Oh,  don't  be  silly ! "  he  said  impatiently. 
"  Why  need  we  beat  about  the  bush  ?  You  know 
well  enough.  Explain." 

"  I  know  this,"  she  said  viciously,  "  that  you  find 
me  coming  from  my  room,  fall  upon  me  like  an 
Apache,  drag  me  here  at  this  unseemly  hour  and 
lock  me  in !  And  you  ask  me  to  explain !  The  ex- 
planation is  due  from  you.  Have  you  never  heard 
of  les  convenances —  what  you  English  call  Mrs. 
Grundy?" 

"  She's  snoring  now,"  he  smiled.  "  I  shan't  wake 
her." 

Mizzi  rose  with  dignity  and  marched  to  the  door, 
nose  in  the  air.  "  If  you  are  a  gentleman,"  she  said 
scornfully,  "  you  will  release  me  at  once." 

"  Afterward,"  he  replied  without  moving.  He 
^sensed  his  triumph  already. 


THRILL  UPON  THRILL  285 

"After  what?" 

"  Your  explanation." 

She  sat  down  again  and  looked  keenly  at  him,  as 
if  trying  to  divine  the  strength  of  his  determination. 
"  I  have  nothing  to  explain,"  she  said  presently. 
"If  I  had,  you  could  not  compel  me.  If  you  at- 
tempt it  I  shall  scream." 

"  Quite  worth  trying,"  he  said  urbanely.  "  Start 
now.  I  haven't  the  least  objection." 

Mizzi  remained  silent  for  several  minutes,  debat- 
ing the  point.  Then  she  laughed  frankly,  as  if  ad- 
miring his  coolness.  "  Ah !  that's  better !  "  he  ap- 
proved. "  Now,  perhaps,  we  shall  get  on." 

"  But  no !  "  she  said  quickly,  "  I  shall  not  scream, 
because  I  am  quite  capable  of  taking  care  of  my- 
self. But  I  will  tell  you  nothing.  What  next,  mon- 
sieur?" 

Lionel  got  off  the  bed  and  began  to  fill  a  pipe  in 
leisurely  fashion.  "  You  don't  mind  me  smoking?  " 
he  asked  formally.  "  It  always  helps  me."  He 
struck  a  match  and  lighted  the  tobacco,  apparently 
preoccupied.  "  What  next  ?  you  ask.  This.  Have 
you  ever  seen  that  Pinero  play,  The  Gay  Lord 
Quex?" 

She  shook  her  head,  puzzled. 


286  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Ah !  that's  a  pity,  for  I  am  going  to  borrow 
a  hint  if  you  are  difficile.  If  you  refuse  to  con- 
fess I  mean  to  keep  you  locked  up  here  till  the 
morning." 

"And  then?" 

"  Then  I  shall  ring  for  my  shaving-water.  And 
where's  your  character?  " 

She  bit  her  lips.  "  I  mistook  you  for  a  gentle- 
man." 

"Ah!  that  was  the  fault  of  the  top  hat.  I'm 
really  a  detective  and  can't  afford  the  luxury  of  senti- 
ment." 

Mizzi  nibbled  a  finger-nail,  and  watched  him  with 
sparkling  eyes.  It  was  clear  that  she  was  not  at 
ease,  that  she  had  not  expected  to  find  him  so  ready 
with  a  plan,  so  determined  in  dishonor.  Being  a 
woman,  it  is  probable  that  she  did  not  altogether 
blame  him.  Lionel  smiled,  reading  her,  as  he 
thought,  like  a  book. 

"Well,  what  is  it  to  be?" 

She  made  a  disconsolate  gesture. 

"  You  are  too  strong,"  she  said,  and  smiled  in 
pitiful  appeal.  "  Ah,  monsieur !  once  you  would  not 
have " 

"  That  line  is  useless,"  said  Lionel  brutally.  He 
was  playing  for  high  stakes  and  could  not  afford  to 


THRILL  UPON  THRILL  287 

waste  a  trick.  "  Once  I  flirted  and  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  a  kiss.  Never  again,  my  pretty  schemer! 
So  don't  try  it  on !  " 

She  looked  bewildered. 

"You  misunderstand  me  cruelly.  But  as  I  am 
to  be  beaten,  let  us  get  to  business.  What  do  you 
wish  to  know?" 

"  Where  are  the  papers  ?  " 

She  did  not  attempt  to  parry  now.  "  They  are 
not  in  this  house." 

"  That  is  a  lie." 

She  shrugged  again. 

"  Monsieur  is  not  discriminating.  I  tell  you  the 
truth.  I  took  the  papers  and  have  hidden  them. 
They  are  not  here.  If  you  like,  here  are  my  keys  " 
—  she  held  them  out  — "  you  may  search  my 
boxes." 

He  looked  steadily  at  her.  There  was  no  waver- 
ing in  her  tone,  no  weakness  in  the  eyes  or  mouth. 
Belief  was  imperative. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  Where  have  you  hidden 
them?" 

"  I  will  not  tell  you  that." 

"  You  know  the  penalty?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  do  not  care.  I  tell  you  so  much, 
but  not  that." 


288  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Her  voice  was  so  inflexible,  so  cold  and  so  indif- 
ferent that  he  felt  defeat  at  hand. 

"  Leave  it  for  the  present,  then.  Have  you  sold 
them?" 

"  No.     They  would  not  pay  the  price." 

"  And  you  are  waiting  till  they  increase  their  of- 
fer?" 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Perhaps !  "  he  echoed.  "  But  you  mean  to  sell 
them?" 

She  smiled  faintly. 

"  Perhaps.  I  may  have  stolen  them  for  other 
motives  than  money.  Enough  that  I  stole  them  and 
will  not  tell  you  where  they  are." 

He  changed  his  line  of  attack. 

"  To-morrow  I  will  have  you  arrested  for  theft." 

"  No,"  she  demurred.  "  You  have  no  proof  — 
no  witness.  The  papers  will  never  be  found  unless 
I  choose.  Besides,  you  dare  not  have  me  arrested: 
you  know  this  is  not  a  police  matter." 

"  True,"  he  admitted,  for  her  knowledge  made  it 
useless  to  bluff.  He  paused  and  thought,  Mizzi 
smiling  maliciously  from  the  armchair.  The 
pendulum  of  victory  was  swinging  to  her  and  she 
could  afford  to  smile.  "Look  here!  "  said  Lionel, 


THRILL  UPON  THRILL  289 

remembering  another  weapon.  "  Will  you  sell  me 
them?  I'll  give  you  your  price." 

"  I  will  never  sell  them  to  you,"  she  said,  still 
with  inflexible  determination.  "  Do  not  suggest  it 
again,  please.  It  would  be  a  waste  of  time." 

Lionel  was  baffled,  beaten  at  every  point  in  the 
game,  and  he  knew  it.  "  Confound  it !  "  he  thought 
savagely,  "  I  fancied  I  held  the  key  of  the  situation 
in  my  hands,  and  I  am  no  further  on.  I  am  deeper, 
in  fact,  for  I  know  that  Mizzi  is  here  and  I  do  not 
know  why.  .  .  .  Ah ! "  he  cried  suddenly,  de- 
termined to  have  one  thing  decided  for  good  and  all. 
"  You  have  won  to-night,  I  allow  —  I  have  no  hold 
on  you  to  make  you  confess  —  but  there  is  one  thing 
that  you  have  done  for  me  —  one  suspicion  that  your 
presence  here  has  made  almost  a  certainty  —  one 
resolution  of  a  doubt  that  I  can  thank  you  for,  how- 
ever painfully — " 

"  And  that  is  ?  "  she  asked  with  polite  interest. 

"  This.  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
whole  business  is  a  game.  I  don't  understand  it 
in  the  least,  but  it's  a  game  none  the  less,  and  I  have 
been  a  dupe.  I  am  sure  now  that  Miss  Blair  and 
Miss  Arkwright  are  the  same  person.  What  do  you 
say  to  that?" 


290  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Mizzi  did  not  so  much  as  flicker  an  eyelash.  She 
looked  at  him  with  a  lazy  amusement. 

"  Herr  Gott!"  she  said  with  a  scorn  that  seared 
his  unbelief  forever.  "If  you  think  that  you  will 
think  anything.  Miss  Arkwright  and  Miss  Blair 
the  same !  "  and  she  went  off  into  an  uncontrollable 
peal. 

Lionel  would  have  dearly  liked  to  shake  her,  but 
in  the  midst  of  his  defeat  he  realized  with  a  glow 
that  she  had  won  a  Pyrrhic  victory.  "  She  won't 
tell  me  what  I  ask  her,"  he  thought  deliriously,  "  but 
she  has  convinced  me  of  Beatrice's  innocence.  That 
is  something  at  all  events !  "  and  he,  too,  began  to 
laugh  so  infectiously  that  Mizzi  stared  in  amaze- 
ment. They  laughed  like  two  good  friends,  and 
it  was  in  an  excellent  humor  that  Lionel  at  last  got 
up. 

"  Congratulations !  "  he  said  courteously.  "  You 
have  beaten  me,  I  confess.  I  can  not  give  you  in 
charge,  unfortunately,  and  I  do  not  see  that  any 
good  purpose  would  be  served  by  keeping  you  here 
all  night.  If  I  did,  I  would  do  so  without  hesita- 
tion. But  I  warn  you  that  I  shall  ask  Miss  Ark- 
wright to-morrow  for  an  explanation  of  your  pres- 
ence." 

"  I  hope  she  will  give  you  one,"  said  Mizzi,  rising 


THRILL  UPON  THRILL  291 

with  twinkling  eyes.  "  Thank  you,  Mr.  Mortimer. 
I  hardly  expected  you  to  be  generous,  but  I  felt  sure 
you  would  be  sensible." 

He  laughed  good-humoredly  and  walked  over  to 
the  door,  she  following  with  a  demure  air  that  was 
something  of  a  trial  to  Saint  Anthony.  He  fitted 
the  key,  turned  it,  and  opened  the  door  with  a  little 
bow.  The  bow  was  never  perfectly  finished,  for 
framed  in  the  doorway  he  beheld  the  figures  of  his 
hostess  and  Mrs.  Wetherby.  They  had  evidently 
been  on  the  point  of  knocking,  for  Miss  Arkwright's 
right  hand  was  raised  in  the  air:  the  projected  knock 
had  assumed  the  similitude  of  a  blessing  —  or  a 
curse. 

Mizzi  fell  back  in  unaffected  horror.  Lionel,  the 
sport  of  fortune,  was  past  surprise.  He  only  stood 
and  waited. 

"  Mizzi!  "  said  Miss  Arkwright  —  one  can  not 
think  of  her  as  Winifred  in  such  a  deplorable 
situation:  she  radiated  outraged  respectability. 
"Mizzi!" 

The  unhappy  innocent  was  almost  incapable  of 
speech.  Before  Miss  Arkwright's  cutting  dissylla- 
bles and  Miss  Wetherby's  damnatory  mien  she  was 
crushed.  Lionel  felt  really  sorry  for  her.  "  It  is 
not  my  fault,  madame,"  she  mumbled.  "  Believe 


292  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

me,  it  is  not  my  fault!  This  gentleman  trepanned 
me.  I  am  innocent.  Is  it  not  so,  Mr.  Mortimer?  " 

"  She  speaks  the  truth,"  said  Lionel  calmly.  "  I 
kidnaped  her  and  locked  her  in.  I  suppose  that 
sounds  unlikely,  but  it  is  a  fact :  I  alone  am  to  blame. 
Does  one  apologize  for  this  sort  of  thing?  If  so, 
I  am  very  sorry,  but " 

Miss  Arkwright  silenced  him  with  a  gesture. 
Her  looks  were  serpents,  her  attitude  was  a  virgin 
horror  of  man.  She  pointed  imperiously  to  the  cor- 
ridor. "  Go !  "  she  hissed  (yes  —  yes :  "  hissed  "  is 
melodrama,  but  she  did  hiss),  and  Mizzi  scuttled 
whimpering  into  the  darkness.  For  a  moment  there 
was  silence,  but  when  the  luckless  girl  had  disap- 
peared she  turned  again  to  Lionel.  "  Now,  sir,  be 
good  enough  to  give  me  your  key." 

"  My  key! "  he  repeated  in  amazement. 
"Why?" 

"Because  I  mean  to  lock  you  in  for  the  night," 
she  said  sternly.  "  Without  that  degrading  precau- 
tion we  can  not  feel  safe." 

Mrs.  Wetherby  said  nothing,  but  nodded  a  grim 
approval. 

"  I  recognize  your  claims  as  hostess,"  replied 
Lionel  amicably,  "  but,  really,  this  is  carrying  the 


THRILL  UPON  THRILL  293 

thing  too  far.  I  am  not  the  vulgar  intriguer  you 
suppose  —  I  merely  kidnaped  that  charming " 

"If  you  refuse,"  interrupted  Winifred  with  basi- 
lisk eyes,  "  I  shall  ring  for  Forbes  and  have  you 
turned  out  of  the  house  at  once.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

Lionel  sighed. 

"  I  ought  to  have  known,"  he  said,  "  that  a  woman 
judges  by  emotion,  not  reason.  In  the  morning 
perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  convince  you  of  my  inno- 
cence." He  gave  her  the  key,  which  she  snatched 
with  unnecessary  vehemence.  "  Good  night.  Thank 
you  for  an  uneventful  evening." 

She  ignored  the  insolence,  which  he  justified  to 
himself  by  her  unreasonable  suspicions.  Leaving 
him  in  a  nonchalant  attitude,  she  swept  out  like  an 
offended  princess,  her  satellite  following  in  an  elo- 
quent silence.  Lionel  heard  the  key  turn  dismally  in 
the  lock,  and  then  the  sound  of  footsteps  retreating 
down  the  passage.  He  laughed  gently  to  himself. 

"  Good  lord,  what  a  muddle ! "  he  said,  "  and 
what  an  evening!  First,  the  face  at  the  window 
(what  a  title  for  a  melodrama!  —  Dash  it !  I've  seen 
it  already  on  the  posters!)  ;  second,  the  appearance 
of  Mizzi;  third,  discovered  by  Winifred.  Climax 


294  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

after  climax,  and  I  was  beginning  to  think  myself 
bored.  Bored  ...  ye  gods !  ...  all  I  need  at  the 
present  moment  is  bed:  I've  done  enough  thinking 
to  scour  my  brain-pan  for  a  year." 

He  undressed  rapidly  and  got  into  bed.  As  he 
pulled  the  clothes  about  him  he  chuckled,  remem- 
bering Winifred's  face.  Then  he  grew  grave. 
"  Sacked  to-morrow,  old  boy ! "  he  muttered. 
"Marching  orders  at  breakfast  and  no  mistake  I 
But  before  I  go  I'll  ask  her  straight  out  what  little 
Mizzi  is  doing  here."  And  then  he  turned  over  and 
was  soon  asleep. 

But  the  horn  of  plenty  still  had  some  gifts  to 
shower  upon  him:  the  god  of  mischances  had  not 
yet  exhausted  his  store  of  thrills.  About  five  min- 
utes, as  it  seemed,  after  his  retiring  —  it  was  really 
an  hour  and  a  half  —  Lionel  was  roused  from  a 
deep  slumber  by  a  knock.  He  sat  up  in  bed,  blink- 
ing heavily,  wondering  if  his  senses  had  deceived 
him,  whether  he  was  dreaming  or  awake.  For  a 
moment  he  sat  listening,  and  then  the  knock  was 
repeated,  distinct  beyond  the  possibility  of  mistake. 
"  Confound  it !  "  he  muttered  in  an  ill  temper ;  "  they 
might  give  me  a  night  off  now.  .  .  .  To-morrow 
I'll  hang  a  placard  on  my  door  — '  Conspiracies  at- 
tended to  from  nine  A.  M.  to  eleven  P.  M.  Kindly 


THRILL  UPON  THRILL  295 

note  hours  of  consultation.' — Hello!"  he  said 
aloud;  "is  anybody  there?" 

The  door  opened  a  few  inches,  but  no  one  entered. 
Lionel  was  too  bored  to  speculate  whether  it  might 
be  Mizzi,  Winifred  or  some  unknown  Oriental  with 
turban  and  simitar.  He  was  prepared  to  accept  any- 
thing, if  only  he  might  be  allowed  to  go  to  sleep. 
"  Hello!  "  he  repeated;  "  who  is  that?  " 

"  Me,"  said  the  voice  of  Miss  Arkwright.  "  Are 
you  asleep,  Mr.  Mortimer?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lionel,  grinning  in  the  darkness  — 
"  sound  asleep." 

A  species  of  cluck  was  heard  from  outside  the 
door,  but  whether  the  strange  sound  indicated 
amusement  or  wrath  he  could  not  determine.  He 
was  wide  awake  now,  determined  to  exact  ven- 
geance for  his  cavalier  treatment. 

"  Some  one,"  continued  the  voice,  "  is  prowling 
round  the  house.  A  thief,  I  suppose.  He  seems 
to  have  a  ladder." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Lionel,  in  the  dispassionate  tone  of 
the  village  idiot.  "  Oh !  " 

Again  there  was  silence,  save  for  a  repetition  of 
the  curious  cluck.  Presently  Winifred  said  in  a 
voice  that  trembled  with  indignation,  "  Is  that  all 
you  have  to  say  ?  " 


296  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  You  might  give  him  my  kind  regards,  and  ask 
him  to  leave  this  room  untouched,"  said  Lionel,  be- 
ginning to  enjoy  himself.  He  could  picture  Wini- 
fred biting  her  lip.  "  Good  night,  and  pleasant 
dreams." 

"  You  are  a  man,  and  my  guest,"  said  the  voice 
bitterly,  "  and  you  leave  us  at  the  mercy  of  a  possi- 
ble murderer " 

"  Not  a  guest,"  he  corrected,  "  but  a  prisoner.  If 
you  require  a  man,  why  not  ask  Forbes  ?  You  were 
ready  enough  to  use  him  just  now." 

Again  there  was  silence.  When  she  spoke  again 
it  was  in  the  meekest  of  tones  —  so  meek,  indeed, 
that  he  scarcely  recognized  it  as  Winifred's. 

"  Mr.  Mortimer,  I  am  very  sorry.  Please  be  gen- 
erous. I  threatened  you  with  a  weapon  I  did  not 
possess.  Forbes  sleeps  in  the  village." 

Lionel  could  not  repress  a  laugh.  He  had  been 
bluffed,  but  bore  no  malice.  Enough  of  vengeance 
had  been  exacted.  He  could  accept  the  capitulation 
without  loss  of  dignity,  for  Miss  Arkwright  —  most 
properly  —  had  been  obliged  to  ask  his  help. 

"  A  moment,"  he  said,  "  and  I  shall  be  with 
you." 

Jumping  out  of  bed,  he  hastily  put  on  his  dress- 
ing-gown in  the  dark.  Then  he  opened  the  door 


THRILL  UPON  THRILL  297 

and  joined  Winifred  in  the  corridor.  She  was  in  a 
dressing-gown,  too,  and  looked  charming  en  desha- 
bille, her  glorious  hair  unbound.  But  no  time  was 
allowed  for  more  than  a  glance  of  admiration.  Tak- 
ing him  by  the  arm,  she  hurried  him  along,  explain- 
ing how  she  had  not  gone  to  sleep,  but  had  lain 
thinking.  "  My  light  was  out,  of  course,"  she  said ; 
"  and  this  marauder,  whoever  he  is,  must  have 
thought  all  the  household  asleep.  I  watched  him 
cross  the  lawn  and  presently  bring  back  a  ladder 
from  the  potting-shed.  He  reared  it  against  the 
window  of  an  empty  room.  I  at  once  came  to  you. 
As  soon  as  he  has  discovered  his  mistake  he  will 
probably  try  another." 

'  Then  shall  I  go  down-stairs  and  capture  him 
as  he  descends  ?  "  suggested  Lionel. 

"Let  us  see  first  from  the  window,"  she  said. 
"  We  must  make  sure." 

They  entered  her  bedroom  together  and  walked 
softly  toward  the  window.  The  blind  was  up. 

There  was  no  moon,  but  the  faint  promise  of  the 
dawn  lent  a  dim  light,  by  which  objects,  grotesquely 
shadowed,  could  be  distinguished.  When  they 
reached  the  window  Lionel  saw  the  top  of  a  ladder 
resting  against  the  sill. 

"You're  right!"  he  whispered.     "Now,  I'm  off 


298  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

outside !  "  He  turned  to  go,  but  was  detained  by 
a  pressure  on  his  arm. 

"  No,  no!  "  whispered  Winifred.  "  I  can  not  let 
you  —  there  may  be  a  gang  —  you  might  get 
hurt " 

"Nonsense!" 

"I  insist!" 

"Then  why " 


"  You  must  not  go !  Throw  something  in- 
stead  " 

"  Absurd!     I " 

"  I  beg  you ! "  she  entreated,  and  her  voice  was 
so  timid  that  once  again  Lionel's  heart  failed.  "  All 
right!  "  he  said.  "  Give  me  something  heavy.  I'll 
fling  up  the  window  suddenly  and  surprise  him ! " 

She  pressed  his  arm  gratefully  and  glided  across 
the  room.  The  next  moment  she  was  at  his  side, 
offering  the  water- jug. 

"  Capital !  "  whispered  Lionel.  "  Drench  him 
first,  then  stun  him  with  the  jug.  Any  other  trifles 
to  bestow  ?  Soap  —  hair-brushes  —  a  boot  or  two? 
Any  little  knickknacks " 

"  The  ladder  is  moving!  " 

It  was  being  shifted  a  few  inches,  apparently  to 


THRILL  UPON  THRILL  299 

a  better  foothold.     Lionel  seized  the  jug  and  made 
ready  for  action. 

"Cigar  or  cocoa-nut,  lidy?"  he  whispered  joy- 
ously as  he  threw  up  the  sash. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  THORNY  PATH 

"TVNNERi  as  usual>  sir?" said  the  landlord 

-I—/  of  The  Happy  Heart,  looking  into  the  par- 
lor where  Tony  and  Robert  were  playing  piquet. 

"  Please,  Mr.  Glew,"  said  Tony.  "  Seven  o'clock 
as  usual.  Oh,  by  the  way,  have  you  got  such  a 
thing  as  a  lantern  ?  " 

"  A  lantern ! "  interjected  Robert  in  surprise. 
"  Why,  what "  He  was  checked  by  a  kick  un- 
der the  table. 

"  I  dare  say  I  can  find  you  one,  sir,"  said  the  land- 
lord. "  We  don't  need  'em  these  summer  nights, 
but  I'll  be  bound  there's  one  knocking  about  some- 
where." 

"  Thanks.  My  friend  and  I  are  enthusiastic  col- 
lectors of  butterflies  and  moths.  We  mean  to  try 
for  some  of  the  latter  to-night;  so,  if  we  are  not  in 
till  late,  you  won't  be  surprised  or  imagine  burglars." 

"  Bless  you,  no,  sir !  "  said  Glew,  and  went  out  to 
look  for  the  lantern.  As  soon  as  the  door  closed 

Robert  began  to  speak. 

300 


THE  THORNY  PATH  301 

"  Don't  think  me  censorious,  Mr.  Wild,  if  you 
please ;  but,  really  now,  was  there  any  need  for 
that?" 

"  The  lantern  ?     Rather !    We  may  have  to " 

"  No  —  not  the  lantern.  The  —  the  perver- 
sion   " 

"  Oh !  you  mean  the  lie.  Don't  apologize,  Bangs, 
old  chap!  you  haven't  offended  me  in  the  least.  I 
like  people  to  say  what  they  think. —  Well,  the  lie. 
.  .  .  Yes,  I  think  it  was  necessary.  Conspirators 
can't  stick  at  trifles.  Besides,  it's  on  my  conscience, 
so  there's  no  need  for  you  to  worry." 

"  But  wouldn't  an  excuse " 

"  Have  done  equally  well  ?  Possibly,  though  I 
never  save  the  ha'porth  of  tar.  And  an  excuse 
would  have  been  only  a  lie  in  another  form  —  just 
as  culpable.  But  don't  let's  worry  over  this :  I  want 
to  tell  you  of  the  plan  of  campaign." 

Robert  subsided,  content  to  have  recorded  a  pro- 
test, however  mild.  He  loved  adventure;  but,  be- 
ing a  man  trained  in  meticulous  accuracy,  he  did  not 
take  kindly  to  deception  —  verbal  deception,  at  any 
rate.  The  path  of  an  adventurer  he  had  found  a 
trifle  thorny,  trodden  by  a  man  of  conscience,  but 
still  he  had  enjoyed  it  and  hoped  to  tread  it  still 


302  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

further.  But  he  was  careful  to  leave  most  of  the 
talking  to  his  comrade. 

"  While  you,  Bangs,-'  pursued  Tony,  leaning 
against  the  mantelpiece,  "  have  been  living  the  lotus 
life  and  acting  slugabed,  I  have  been  working  hard. 
Ever  since  I  got  a  hint  that  Brown  was  in  touch  with 
The  Quiet  House  I  have  been  following  him  like  the 
proverbial  sleuth  hound.  I  have  discovered  —  at  the 
expense  of  torn  trousers  and  soaking  feet  —  that  he 
keeps  tryst  nightly  with  that  charming  bit  of  woman- 
hood I  spoke  to  once  —  and  only  once,  alas!  He 
has  a  private  entry  over  the  wall,  having  driven 
some  large  nails  into  the  outer  side,  well  off  the 
beaten  track.  Up  there  the  gay  Lothario  climbs  — 
drops  into  the  garden  —  meets  his  divinity,  and 
voila  tout!  " 

"What  happens?"  asked  Robert  eagerly. 

"  The  usual  thing,  Bangs.  Exchange  of  kisses 
and  confidences  —  which  I,  alas !  can  hear  but  im- 
perfectly." 

"  But  you  don't  listen ! "  exclaimed  Robert, 
scandalized.  Tony  sighed. 

"  I  have  to  steel  myself.  In  high  politics,  you 
know  .  .  .  but,  of  course,  I  shall  never  tell," 

"  Oh ! " 


THE  THORNY  PATH  303 

The  disappointment  was  obvious,  and  Tony 
laughed. 

"  No,  old  fellow,  love's  young  dream  and  so  forth 
must  be  respected.  Honestly,  I've  only  watched, 
hoping  to  get  a  clew  —  perhaps  some  conversation 
with  the  girl  when  Brown  goes  home.  No  good! 
No  earthly  good !  Brown  sees  her  safe  to  the  house 
and  then  comes  back.  He  stands  on  a  convenient 
garden  roller  and  climbs.  Then  he  drops,  and  off 
home.  Ditto  me,  disgusted,  envious,  lacking  infor- 
mation. To-night  I  mean  to  move." 

"Yes!" 

"  We'll  lie  in  wait,  Bangs,  and  have  a  word  with 
them.  A  coil  of  rope  and  a  sack  —  those  shall  be 
our  only  tools.  While  Brown  is  talking  we'll  try 
to  slip  the  sack  over  his  head  and  tie  him  up.  I 
don't  think  the  lady  will  scream,  for  it  seems  to  me 
that  there's  a  kind  of  counterplot  afoot  —  either 
against  Billy,  the  Turkish  government,  or  Miss  Ark- 
wright.  (I  still  feel  sure  she  is  not  Miss  Arkwright, 
but  a  maid  of  sorts.)  Now,  if  I'm  right  in  my 
conjectures  she  won't  be  keen  on  advertising 
Brown's  presence  to  her  mistress.  If  I'm  wrong 
and  she  does  scream  and  help  comes,  we  must  bolt 
to  the  wall  and  clear  out  at  once.  If  we  succeed, 


304  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

we'll  have  a  talk  with  her  and  try  to  find  out  some- 
thing. I'm  tired  of  waiting  in  the  dark.  Now, 
are  you  game  to  help  ?  " 

Robert  wagged  his  head  nervously. 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Wild,  I'm  as  ready  for  adven- 
ture as  I  ever  was.  But  —  but  this  is  a  serious  busi- 
ness. It  —  it  might  mean  prison !  " 

"  It  might,"  agreed  Tony ;  "  but  I  don't  think  it 
need  if  we're  smart.  Anyhow,  we  must  be  prepared 
to  risk  a  little  for  a  great  adventure.  If  we're 
cute  about  the  sack  business  I  think  I  can  manage 
the  roping  part  all  right.  You  would  have  to  hold 
the  lady." 

"B-but " 

"  She's  awfully  pretty  .  .  ." 

"That  is  no  inducement,  Mr.  Wild.  Ybu  for- 
get  " 

"Come,  Bangs,  none  of  your  'perversions!'  I 
don't  forget  anything.  How  many  chaps  half  your 
age  would  jump  at  the  chance  of  capturing  a  beau- 
tiful anarchist! " 

"  I  am  not  an  old  man  yet,  Mr.  Wild,"  said 
Robert  with  some  heat.  "  You  misunderstand  me. 
I  love  romance  and  can  take  an  interest  —  a  de- 
tached interest,  of  course  —  an  appreciative  and 
artistic  interest  in  a  pretty  woman.  What  I  am 


THE  THORNY  PATH  305 

thinking  of  is  the  law.  But,  since  you  put  it  like 
that,  I  will  come  and  risk  it." 

"  Good,"  said  Tony,  concealing  a  smile.  "  Don't 
let  your  interest  be  too  detached,  old  boy,  or  she 
may  get  away  into  the  house.  Grip  her  firmly  by 
the  wrists." 

They  spent  the  rest  of  the  summer  evening  in 
maturing  their  plans  and  piquet.  Having  given  his 
word  Mr.  Hedderwick  scorned  to  withdraw,  though 
it  was  plain  that  he  did  not  relish  the  prospect  of 
a  night  attack.  Tony,  in  addition  to  the  lantern, 
procured  some  rope  and  a  sack  from  the  landlord. 
"  To  put  the  moths  in,  Mr.  Glew,"  he  said  brightly 
by  way  of  explanation. 

"To  put  the  niorths  in!"  repeated  Glew  in  a 
dazed  fashion.  "  To  put  the  MORTHS  in !  TO  PUT 
THE " 

He  was  still  repeating  the  formula  when  the  ad- 
venturous pair  set  out. 

It  was  a  quarter  past  ten,  thirty  minutes  before 
the  odd-job  man  was  wont  to  meet  the  lady  of  his 
heart.  They  reached  The  Quiet  House  in  some 
ten  minutes,  and  then  skirted  the  wall  for  a  short 
distance,  till  Tony  stopped  with  a  whispered  "  Here 
we  are ! "  It  was  in  a  bridle-path  that  they  found 
themselves,  about  eighty  yards  from  the  main  road 


306  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

that  ran  through  Shereling.  Tony  crouched  down 
behind  a  convenient  clump  of  bramble  and  lighted 
the  lamp. 

"  I'll  light  you  up  the  wall,"  he  said  softly. 
"  When  you  get  to  the  top,  hang  by  your  hands 
and  drop  quietly  down.  There's  soft  grass  ten  feet 
beneath  you.  As  soon  as  you're  up  I  shall  put  out 
the  light,  for  I  know  the  way  by  heart  now." 

With  a  resentful  obedience  Robert  observed  the 
big  nails  that  had  been  driven  into  the  brickwork 
by  the  amorous  Brown.  Heartily  wishing  himself 
at  home  —  or  at  least  in  the  snug  security  of  The 
Happy  Heart  —  but  loath  to  plead  his  years  or  cow- 
ardice, Mr.  Hedderwick  put  his  foot  on  the  lowest 
spike,  grasped  one  above  his  head,  and  began  the 
ascent.  To  an  active  boy  it  would  have  been  a 
trivial  feat;  to  an  elderly  adventurer  it  was  full 
of  pain,  and  in  spite  of  an  heroic  spirit  he  was  more 
than  once  on  the  point  of  climbing  down  again. 
Something,  however,  forbade  the  refusal  of  the  ad- 
venture: curiosity  or  shame  held  him  to  his  word. 
The  glimmer  of  Tony's  lantern  following  —  nay, 
leading  him  ever  upward,  shone  like  a  beacon  of 
promise  in  the  dark.  The  thought  spurred  him,  and 
it  was  not  until  he  had  one  leg  across  the  top  of 
the  wall  that  he  reflected  on  a  change  of  simile: 


THE  THORNY  PATH  307 

the  light  might  rather  be  a  will-o'-the-wisp  luring 
him  to  destruction  or  disgrace.  For  a  moment  his 
courage  failed. 

"Mr.      Wild!"      he     whispered     despairingly, 


The  light  went  out. 

"  All  right  ?  "  said  the  cheering  voice  of  his  fel- 
low criminal.  "  Good.  I'm  coming." 

He  began  to  follow,  rope,  sack  and  lantern  coiled 
over  his  shoulders.  With  a  groan  of  resolution 
Robert  wiped  the  sweat  of  fear  from  his  forehead 
and  dropped  lightly  to  the  ground. 

Tony  joined  him  a  moment  later,  breathing  a  little 
quickly  from  the  climb.  Without  a  word  he  walked 
cautiously  forward,  Robert  close  behind,  until  they 
reached  a  thicket  of  elder-bushes.  Into  the  heart  of 
this  they  crept,  making  as  little  noise  as  possible. 
Presently,  when  Tony  judged  they  wrere  so  placed  as 
to  be  secure  from  observation,  themselves  able  to 
observe,  they  halted.  "  May  as  well  sit  down," 
whispered  Tony  ;  "  quite  likely  we  shall  have  to  wait 
a  bit."  He  spread  the  sack  upon  the  ground  and 
the  two  of  them  established  themselves  upon  it, 
clasping  their  knees. 

The  night,  most  luckily,  was  fine.  There  was  no 
hint  of  rain,  and  little  dew  was  falling.  There  was 


308  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

no  moon,  and  the  fitful  starlight  only  served  to  dis- 
play the  immensity  of  the  darkness,  the  monstrous 
tree-shapes  looming  threateningly  on  them,  the  over- 
whelming horror  of  The  Quiet  House.  Black 
against  the  dark  background  of  the  sky  it  reared  its 
bulk  above  them,  seeming  to  menace  the  guilty  pair 
with  nightmare  terrors,  starting  ghoulish  fancies, 
prosaic  fears  of  the  police,  a  child's  dread  of  the 
dark  and  all  its  goblins.  It  was  so  silent,  powerful, 
unknown.  Mr.  Hedderwick's  flesh  crept  with  a  chill 
that  was  not  climatic,  and  instinctively  he  huddled 
closer  to  his  companion. 

"  Can  we  smoke  ?  "  he  breathed. 

"  No.     They  might  see  the  glow." 

"  They,"  of  course  meant  Brown  and  his  accom- 
plice; but,  uttered  beneath  that  lowering  sky,  those 
gloomy  trees,  in  the  atmosphere  of  intrigue  and 
hypothetical  bloodshed,  the  words  assumed  an  awful 
import  to  Mr.  Hedderwick.  Romance  cut  with  a 
keener  edge  across  his  quivering  soul.  He  was  get- 
ting his  fill  of  adventures,  and  with  an  unfeigned 
zeal  he  now  wished  himself  safe  at  Bloomsbury,  even 
at  the  price  of  a  Caudle's  welcome.  To  think  that 
he,  a  middle-aged  —  no!  an  old  man,  with  a  good 
wife  —  yes!  a  good  wife,  though  sometimes  a  little 
overbearing  —  a  churchwarden  of  Saint  Frides- 


THE  THORNY  PATH  309 

wide's  and  all  the  rest  —  to  think  that  he  could  be 
so  harebrained  and  ungrateful  as  to  embark  on  such 
an  enterprise !  It  was  incredible :  he  must  be  dream- 
ing. .  .  .  No;  it  was  real.  His  right  foot  was  in 
agony :  it  had  gone  to  sleep. 

"Ouch!"  he  said,  stretching  it.  "What's  the 
time,  Mr.  Wild?" 

"  Can't  see.  Daren't  light  a  match.  'Fraid 
they're  late.  Shut  up." 

Time  passed  heavily  to  the  unhappy  man.  A 
schoolboy,  condemned  to  a  caning,  can  face  the 
prospect  with  a  decent  front  if  only  the  punishment 
is  not  deferred.  "  Cane  me,  if  you  must !  "  he  would 
say,  "  but  get  it  over  and  let's  have  done  with  it !  " 
A  fair  request,  provided  the  culprit  be  not  a  hard- 
ened nature  whom  it  is  policy  to  keep  in  suspense. 
In  such  a  case  the  Third  Degree  may  be  justified. 
But  suppose  your  culprit  to  be  a  sensitive  shrinking 
nature,  to  whom  the  waiting  is  worse  torture  than 
the  actual  pain  itself,  is  it  not  a  refinement  of  cruelty 
to  keep  him  on  the  tenter-hooks?  Robert  Hedder- 
wick  was  of  such,  a  gentle,  kindly,  romantic,  imagi- 
native fool.  You  who  scorn  his  folly  might  pardon, 
could  you  but  enter  into  half  his  feelings  as  he  waits 
amid  the  elder-bushes. 

At  eleven  o'clock  there  was  promise  of  incident 


310  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

to  cheer  their  hearts.  From  the  other  side  of  the 
house  they  heard  a  voice  call  sharply,  "  Who  is 
there?"  No  answer  was  returned,  but  before  the 
echoes  died  they  saw  a  dark  figure  run  silently 
across  the  lawn  and  clamber  up  the  wall  where  they 
had  made  an  entrance.  Breathlessly  they  watched, 
and  in  another  moment  a  second  figure,  carrying 
some  lethal  weapon,  walked  sharply  into  the  field  of 
vision.  The  newcomer  made  a  tour  of  the  house 
and  part  of  the  garden,  but  did  not  disturb  the 
anxious  watchers  in  the  elders.  As  soon  as  he  had 
disappeared  Robert  whispered,  "  What  now  ?  Shall 
we  go  after  the  man  who  climbed?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Tony,  whispering  too.  "  I  don't 
understand  this.  It's  a  different  program.  Looks 
as  if  something  is  up.  Better  wait." 

His  companion  sighed,  for  he  had  hoped  release 
was  at  hand.  Instead,  he  resigned  himself  to  wait- 
ing. 

An  hour  crept  by  with  feet  of  lead.  To  the  ama- 
teur plotters  it  seemed  as  if  time  itself  were  standing 
still.  Robert  thought  it  must  be  two  o'clock  at  least, 
but  Tony's  common  sense  guessed  it  to  be  near  mid- 
night. Once  the  churchwarden  ventured  to  suggest 
that  honor  was  satisfied,  curiosity  likely  to  be  disap- 
pointed; why  not  retire?  Tony  refused  doggedly: 


THE  THORNY  PATH  311 

"  I'm  going  to  see  it  through  now  if  we  wait  till 
five  o'clock.  No  more  lost  chances !  " 

Robert  groaned  and  rubbed  his  leg. 

It  was  half  past  one  when  Robert,  half  asleep, 
conscious  of  nothing  but  discomfort,  felt  Tony 
plucking  at  his  sleeve.  He  roused  himself  irritably, 
almost  forgetful  of  their  errand.  Then,  in  the  dim 
foreshadowing  of  dawn,  he  saw  the  outline  of  a 
man  on  the  top  of  the  wall.  He  awoke  fully  on  the 
instant,  clutching  his  fellow  sufferer  in  pure  fright, 
staring  with  wide-open  eyes.  The  man  dropped 
nimbly  down  upon  the  grass  and  walked  noiselessly 
across  the  lawn. 

They  watched  him  eagerly,  feeling  that  their  suf- 
ferings were  about  to  be  rewarded,  wondering 
whether  they  ought  to  follow  or  wait.  If  the  first, 
they  might  be  discovered;  the  second,  they  might 
lose  him.  For  once  in  his  life  Tony  was  at  a  loss. 
He  had  reckoned  on  Brown's  arrival,  but  not  at  a 
different  hour,  pursuing  a  new  course.  What  was 
the  best  plan? 

Fortunately  the  period  of  suspense  was  short. 
The  figure,  which  had  disappeared  for  a  moment 
round  the  corner  of  the  house,  came  into  view  once 
more.  It  still  moved  with  surpassing  stealth,  but 
now  it  was  carrying  a  long  unwieldy  object  in  one 


312  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

hand.  It  was  a  ladder.  Tony  nearly  whistled 
when  he  saw  this  ominous  contrivance,  and  Robert 
quivered  with  a  satisfying  impatience  for  the  com- 
ing drama.  Were  they  to  see  a  new  version  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  or  was  it  merely  a  vulgar  burg- 
lary? 

The  man  paused,  surveyed  the  blank  unlighted 
house,  and  then  reared  his  ladder  against  a  window. 
He  climbed  rapidly  up,  but  after  a  brief  inspection 
descended  with  equal  swiftness.  He  raised  the  lad- 
der with  no  obvious  effort,  carried  it  some  little  dis- 
tance along,  and  placed  it  at  another  window.  It 
was  clear  that  he  was  correcting  a  mistake. 

"  What  "  —  began  Robert  in  a  thick  whisper,  but 
Tony  clapped  a  hand  on  his  mouth,  fearing  lest 
the  faintest  sound  might  betray  them.  Not  that 
there  was  any  real  danger,  for  the  night-prowler  was 
twenty  yards  away,  the  wind  had  begun  to  rise,  and 
the  tree  branches  were  sighing  loudly  enough  to 
drown  a  human  murmur.  But  Tony  meant  to  run 
no  risks :  he  was  determined  to  see  the  play  through 
to  the  end.  Not  the  quiver  of  an  eyelash  must  be- 
tray them.  At  all  costs,  silence. 

They  saw  Brown  —  for  who  else  could  it  be  ?  — 
rear  the  ladder,  then  shift  it  a  little  to  get  a  better 
foundation.  He  tried  it  with  his  hand  to  make  sure 


THE  THORNY  PATH  313 

that  it  was  firm.  A  last,  satisfied  and  resolute, 
he  placed  one  foot  upon  it  and  began  to  climb.  The 
watchers  held  their  breath,  unconscious  of  the  drama 
within  a  drama  about  to  burst  upon  them.  Robert 
was  trembling,  his  mouth  still  covered  by  Tony's 
precautionary  hand.  Brown  was  on  the  second 
rung,  when  the  window  above  was  suddenly  flung 
open.  The  mysterious  Billy  leaned  out,  jug  in  hand. 
"  Good  evening !  "  he  said  distinctly,  in  pleasant 
gentlemanly  accents  that  reached  the  watchers  in 
the  elders :  "  good  evening.  Have  a  drink  ?  " 

The  wretched  Brown  was  so  bouleverse  by  the  un- 
expected apparition  that  he  stood  fast,  gaping  won- 
derfully, upon  the  second  rung.  It  was  lucky  that 
he  had  climbed  no  higher,  for  the  cascade  that  fell 
with  unerring  aim  fairly  upon  his  countenance  was 
the  best  part  of  a  gallon  of  water.  Apart  from  the 
hydraulic  force  exerted  the  wanton  suddenness  of 
the  attack  must  have  dashed  him  to  the  ground.  He 
fell  prone  upon  the  grass,  striving  to  disburden  him- 
self of  an  unwanted  draft,  pitiable,  a  splutter- 
ing ruin  of  a  conspirator. 

"  Glwhtt! "  said  Robert  from  behind  the  hand  of 
Tony.  He  was  nigh  to  bursting  with  suppressed 
emotion.  "  Glwhtt!  oh!  glwhtt!" 

Tony,  too,  found  it  hard  to  keep  himself  in  hand. 


314  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Despite  his  disappointment  at  beholding  his  fair 
hopes  frustrated,  it  was  no  easy  task  to  check  the 
laugh.  To  see  a  man,  bold,  confident,  assured  of  suc- 
cess, in  one  moment  converted  into  a  sodden  and 
convulsive  mass,  weltering  upon  the  lawn  —  it  was 
catastrophic.  If  incongruity  be  the  basis  of  the 
comic  spirit,  it  was  here  with  a  vengeance. 

"  With  a  vengeance."  The  thought  was  impelled 
by  the  quick  hurry  of  events.  Brown,  after  gaspy 
flounderings  for  half  a  minute,  recovered  himself 
and  stood  erect.  He  shook  an  Olympian  fist  in  pow- 
erless wrath  toward  the  window,  breathed  a  crim- 
son oath  that  might  have  scorched  the  stars,  and 
ran  blunderingly  toward  the  wall.  He  made  for  his 
point  of  entry  by  a  straight  path  and  dashed  blindly 
through  the  elders.  In  his  headlong  course  he  trod 
convincingly  on  Robert's  fingers,  but  sped  on,  heed- 
less of  the  yelp  of  pain.  "  Ahoo!"  whooped  Mr. 
Hedderwick,  leaping  in  his  agony,  unrecking  of  the 
consequences.  "Ahoo!  Ahoo!  "  He  was  wringing 
his  hands  in  an  ecstasy  of  anguish  as  Lionel  came 
bursting  from  the  house,  a  heavy  walking-stick  in 
his  hand. 

"  The  wall  quick !  "  said  Tony,  seizing  him  by  the 
arm.  They  had  a  start  of  thirty  yards :  Brown  was 
over  the  wall  and  out  of  sight  by  this  time,  and 


THE  THORNY  PATrf  315 

there  was  still  hope  of  escape.  Had  Tony  been 
alone  he  would  have  got  away,  for  they  reached  the 
wall  well  ahead  of  the  frantic  Lionel,  aflame  for 
blood.  But  chivalry  forced  him  to  let  Robert  climb 
first.  "  Up  you  go ! "  he  said,  thrusting  the  ad- 
venturous churchwarden  upon  the  roller.  There 
were  no  spikes  to  help  or  hinder  on  the  inner  wall. 
Robert  caught  hold  of  the  top  bricks  and  scrabbled 
piteously  with  his  toes,  searching  for  a  foothold. 
Tony  shoved  fiercely  from  beneath,  the  thought  of 
prison  or  the  bowstring  beating  in  his  brain.  With 
a  heave  of  which  he  scarce  thought  himself  capable 
he  boosted  Robert  high  in  the  air.  Mr.  Hedderwick 
flew  up  like  a  ball  of  india-rubber,  rolled  on  to  the 
top,  and  fell  over  the  other  side  with  a  wail  of  ap- 
prehension. Luckily  the  mud  was  soft.  But  just 
as  he  touched  the  mud,  Lionel  came  up  with  his 
quarry  and  seized  him  by  the  collar.  Tony  turned 
and  struggled  like  a  wildcat,  but  he  was  no  match 
for  the  other.  Lionel  shortened  his  stick  and  drove 
it  upward.  With  a  grunt  of  pain  Tony  collapsed. 
11  Whew !  "  said  Lionel,  vastly  pleased  as  he  con- 
templated the  fallen  foe.  "  There's  one  of  'em,  any- 
how. I  hope  I  haven't  killed  the  brute." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A   TELEGRAM   AND   SUNDRIES 

THE  twelve-year-old  son  of  Mr.  Glew,  who,  in 
the  intervals  of  school  and  expiating  the  inev- 
itable offenses  of  youth,  was  utilized  to  carry  tele- 
grams, came  whistling  up  the  drive  of  The  Quiet 
House.  He  rang  the  bell,  and  in  the  fulness  of  time 
the  summons  was  answered  by  a  man  servant  who 
had  been  engaged  the  day  before.  He  was  called 
Jones.  "Hello!  young  cock-sparrow!"  said  Jones 
cheerfully.  "  Brought  a  wire?  Who's  it  for? 
Her  Imperial  Highness  or  me  ?  " 

"  Name  o'  Mortimer,"  said  the  youthful  Glew. 
"Catch  hold!" 

"  Mortimer's  on  the  lawn,  sunning  himself,"  said 
Jones.  "  Better  take  it  straight  round." 

"  I'm  employed  to  hand  telegrams  into  the  house," 
said  the  boy  with  all  the  dignity  of  a  government 
servant.  "  It's  your  business  to  see  ole  Mortimer 
gets  it." 

"  And  it's  my  business  to  give  a  clip  'side  o'  the 
316 


A  TELEGRAM  AND  SUNDRIES      317 

*ed,"  said  Jones,  riposting.  "So  if  you  don't  want 
a  thick  ear  inside  of  a  jiffy,  my  lad,  off  you  go." 

Master  Glew  obeyed,  soothing  his  outraged  inde- 
pendence by  a  cry  of  "  Yar !  red-nosed  beef-eater!  " 
as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  reach.  Jones,  regretting 
the  ungiven  clip,  banged  the  door,  and  the  libel-lov- 
ing Glew  went  pleasantly  on  his  way. 

He  found  Lionel  in  the  summer-house  and  de- 
livered the  yellow  envelope,  waiting  dutifully  to  see 
if  there  was  a  prepaid  reply,  hoping  for  a  possible 
douceur.  In  this  he  was  disappointed ;  for  although 
the  telegram  seemed  to  give  unbounded  pleasure  to 
the  recipient,  no  money  changed  hands,  and  Master 
Glew  retired,  embittered  and  pessimistic.  As  soon 
as  he  was  alone  Lionel  read  and  read  again  the 
flimsy  slip  that  conveyed  so  much.  The  words 
danced  before  him  in  the  sunlight: 

"  Lukos  has  died  of  measles.  Stay  where  you  are 
and  keep  watching.  Beatrice." 

Lukos  dead!  Then  the  path  was  clear,  and  he 
was  free  to  hope,  free  to  pursue,  to  strive  with  all 
his  heart  and  soul  to  ...  to  do  what  ?  Why,  make 
love  to  her,  of  course,  and  presently  ask  her  to 
marry  him.  "  Marry  "...  The  word  came  on 
him  with  a  stunning  shock,  as  it  does  to  every  free 
bachelor  when  he  sees  the  wedding-ring  as  a  reality 


318  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

within  his  grasp.  However  much  we  long  to  per- 
suade the  beloved  object  to  the  vow  —  however 
much  we  have  striven,  hoped,  schemed  and  waited 
—  still,  when  the  time  comes  of  a  verity,  and  at  last 
we  can  confidently  say,  "  I  am  to  be  married  to-mor- 
row !  "  or  next  week,  or  a  year  hence  —  then,  in  the 
midst  of  our  ecstasy,  there  comes  a  whisper,  "  Mar- 
ried! Tied!  Shackled!"  We  welcome  our 
chains,  of  course, —  we  would  barter  our  souls  for 
the  lovely  fetters;  but  there  always  comes,  if  but  for 
the  briefest  of  seconds,  the  appalling  thought, 
"  Freedom  has  gone  forever ! "  Is  there  a  single 
husband  who,  during  the  period  of  courtship,  has 
never  been  "  afraid  with  any  amazement  "  ? 

The  thought,  the  fear,  came  to  Lionel  as  to  the 
rest  of  us,  and  for  an  instant  he  felt  like  taking  to 
his  heels.  Then  he  smiled  as  a  grown-up  upon  a 
child,  naturally  timid  and  ignorant.  Next,  his  face 
fell,  as  he  harped  back  to  his  theme.  He  was  to 
"  make  love  "  to  her. 

To  a  man  of  his  stamp  making  love  is  not  a  diffi- 
cult matter.  To  a  man  like  Tony  it  is  a  second 
nature  —  the  breath  of  life  —  a  perennial  pastime. 
But  making  love  is  not  the  same  as  loving,  and  to 
make  love  to  Beatrice  would  be  an  insult.  He  ad- 
mired Beatrice  so  much  —  respected  her  —  was  anx- 


A  TELEGRAM  AND  SUNDRIES      319 

ious  to  serve  her,  to  obey  her  slightest  whim, — 
thought  her  the  best  and  most  desirable  creature  he 
had  ever  known.  But  if  he  did  not  love  her,  it 
would  be  a  base  thing  to  pretend,  to  use  her  as  a  toy. 
Did  he  love  her  or  not  ?  He  wanted  her  —  oh,  yes ! 
he  wanted  her  as  he  had  never  wanted  any  one  else 
in  his  life.  There  had  been  others,  of  course,  with 
whom  he  had  dallied  —  for  instance,  Mizzi.  There 
had  been  one  or  two  in  whom  he  had  taken  a  more 
serious  interest,  like  Miss  Arkwright.  With  the  lat- 
ter he  had  more  than  once  imagined  himself  to  be 
in  love  —  he  had  dwelt  delightfully  upon  the  possi- 
bility —  had  gone  to  bed  reflecting,  "  Dash  it !  Be- 
atrice has  forgotten  me.  Winifred's  a  darling! 
Why  not?"  And  then  when  the  kiss  had  been  of- 
fered, he  had  refused.  Well,  in  that  lay  hope  of 
a  greater  certainty.  He  had  refused  the  kiss  — 
had  he  not?  —  because  of  Beatrice.  Therefore  he 
loved  her.  Therefore  he  must  make  love  to  her. 
Therefore  he  must  ask  her  to  marry  him.  Marriage ! 
Whew  —  w  —  w ! 

"  Oh,  you  vacillating  ass !  "  he  groaned  to  himself, 
getting  up  and  stretching  his  arms  as  if  to  free  him- 
self from  the  enmeshing  subtleties.  "  Why  can't 
you  be  content  to  believe  yourself  in  love  and  go 
straight  ahead  now  that  the  path  is  clear?  Why 


320  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

can't  you  be  an  ordinary,  sane,  matter-of-fact  lover, 
and  ask  the  dear  woman  if  she'll  marry  you  and 
help  you  to  help  her,  the  world  and  yourself? 
Yourself,  who  need  it  badly.  Why  —  why  —  why 
can't  you  be  reasonable  ?  "  He  shook  his  fist  sav- 
agely at  the  heavens.  "  Why  worry  your  brain 
about  these  intricate  analyses?  Why?  Because, 
my  boy,  she  deserves  certainly,  and,  by  George,  she 
shall  have  it ! " 

He  sat  down  and  read  the  telegram  once  more. 
"Poor  old  chap!"  he  thought.  "Dead  ...  and 
of  measles.  Lord!  it's  hard  not  to  laugh.  A  man 
who  plotted  and  shook  the  chancelleries,  in  daily 
danger  of  poison  or  the  sword,  to  die  of  measles! 
What  a  world  of  oddities!  Poor  devil  ...  I 
wonder  how  she  takes  it  ?  " 

The  remembrance  of  the  forced  marriage  led  him 
to  think  that  she  could  not  feel  it  too  cruelly.  No 
doubt  she  had  liked  him  —  had  even  felt  affection 
for  him.  But  the  compulsion  of  wedlock  and  the 
death  of  her  only  son  would  not  but  make  the  tie 
more  light  than  usual.  "  Let's  hope  so,  anyway," 
he  growled  to  himself,  shifting  uncomfortably  in 
his  chair.  "  Lionel,  you  were  selfish  to  talk  of  love 
so  soon.  More  especially  when  you  don't  know  yet 
if  you  love  her  or  not." 


A  TELEGRAM  AND  SUNDRIES      321 

Miss  Arkwright  came  across  the  lawn.  There 
had  been  no  more  talk  of  his  departure.  Since  his 
noble  rescue  —  five  nights  agone  —  it  had  been  im- 
possible to  be  harsh.  There  had  been  an  interview 
next  morning  in  which  considerable  frankness  had 
been  displayed  on  both  sides.  Miss  Arkwright  had 
asked  him  to  repeat  his  explanation  of  Mizzi's  pres- 
ence in  his  bedroom,  and  this  he  had  done  cheerfully 
enough.  In  return,  he  had  inquired  what  Mizzi  was 
doing  there,  and  had  accused  his  hostess  of  con- 
spiracy. "  I  feel,"  he  had  said,  "  that  it  is  time  we 
understand  each  other.  Cards  on  the  table,  please. 
As  you  may  know  or  guess,  I  came  here  to  watch 
you,  believing  you  to  be  in  the  service  of  the  Turks." 

"  Absurd !  "  Winifred  had  replied.  "  I  can  not  ex- 
plain all  now,  but  my  sister  is  mistaken.  Mizzi  ap- 
plied for  a  situation  through  a  registry  office,  and 
only  came  the  night  you  discovered  her.  I  have 
questioned  her,  and  though  I  believe  your  explana- 
tion of  her  presense,  it  is  best  for  us  all  that  she 
should  not  stay. —  Oh,  I  have  taken  care  that  she 
shall  not  suffer  financially. —  I  am  sure  your  suspi- 
cions of  her  are  as  groundless  as  my  sister's  of  me. 
In  any  case,  I  have  no  intention  of  conducting  an 
inquiry  into  so  flimsy  a  charge.  Now  we  know 
where  we  are.  If  you  will  be  pleased  to  prolong 


322  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

your  stay,  I  shall  be  glad.  Perhaps  you  will  learn  to 
believe  in  me  at  last."  He  did  not  believe  her  in  the 
least,  but  the  knowledge  that  he  was  no  longer  there 
on  false  pretenses  was  no  small  solace,  and  he  stayed 
on. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Arkwright,  approaching,  "  let 
us  go  and  look  at  our  prisoner.  Have  you  seen 
him  this  morning?  " 

"  Not  since  breakfast,"  said  Lionel,  rising. 
"  What  is  his  job  to-day?  " 

"  Digging  and  wheeling,"  answered  Miss  Ark- 
wright with  a  smile.  "  I  am  told  that  he  shapes 
well." 

They  walked  round  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
presently  came  upon  a  second  lawn.  Across  this 
was  laid  a  narrow  footway  of  planks.  As  they  ap- 
proached a  figure  was  seen  wheeling  a  small  barrow 
of  earth  toward  an  embryonic  flower  bed.  The 
figure  came  to  the  end  of  the  causeway,  upset  his 
load  with  a  professional  side-twist,  and  then  wiped 
his  brow.  "  I  believe  that  is  always  done,"  he  said 
apologetically  to  the  lady,  who  had  halted  with  her 
cavalier :  "  one  picks  up  a  wrinkle  here  and  there. 
Your  gardener,  for  instance,  showed  me  how  the 
navvies  unload  their  barrows,  correcting  my  natural 
impulse  to  upset  it  straight  ahead." 


A  TELEGRAM  AND  SUNDRIES     323 

"Do  you  feel  tired?"  asked  Miss  Arkwright 
critically:  there  was  no  sympathy  in  her  tone. 

"  The  masses  are  used  to  that,"  answered  Tony. 
"  In  time,  no  doubt,  I  shall  learn  the  trick  of  doing 
the  maximum  of  work  with  the  minimum  of  effort. 
No,  I  can't  say  I  am  especially  tired;  it's  rather  a 
healthy  feeling  on  the  whole." 

'*  You're  making  a  bit  of  a  mess  of  the  lawn," 
observed  Lionel,  his  glance  falling  on  a  scarred  patch. 

"  Ah !  that  was  in  the  apprentice  stage,"  said 
Tony  airily.  "  The  barrow  ran  off  the  plank,  and 
this  narrow  wheel  cuts.  Of  course  I  am  always 
open  to  learn,  and  if  you 

"  Mr.  Mortimer  is  a  guest,  not  a  serf,"  Miss  Ark- 
wright reminded  him.  Tony  bowed. 

"  I  apologize.  For  a  moment  I  had  forgotten 
class  distinctions.  Beg  pardon,  mum!  By  your 
leave,  sir!  I  must  be  gettin'  back  to  my  job." 

He  trundled  the  barrow  briskly  out  of  sight  to 
where  a  mound  of  soil  awaited  his  efforts.  He  was 
soon  back,  however,  and  another  load  of  soil  was  de- 
posited dexterously  upon  the  growing  bed. 

"  You're  still  obstinate,"  said  the  lady,  smiling. 

"Meaning ?"     He  paused,  shovel  in  hand. 

"  That  you  won't  give  any  account  of  yourself." 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  asked  Tony  innocently.     "  I 


324  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

am  the  slave  of  a  perfectly  charming  despot "  — 
he  bowed  again  with  grace,  despite  his  costume  and 
the  mud  stains.  "  I  am  well  housed  and  fed.  I 
have  nothing  special  to  do.  I  am  regaining  the  rude 
health  of  youth " 

"  But  you  have  to  work!"  Lionel  reminded  him 
with  a  laugh.  "  And  judging  from  your  hands  I 
don't  think  you've  done  much  of  that  in  your  life." 

Tony  waved  one  of  the  despised  hands. 

"  It  is  a  popular  error  to  speak  of  manual  labor- 
ers as  '  the  working  classes.'  There  is  such  a  thing 
as  brain-work  —  no!  I  don't  press  the  point.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  am  rather  attracted  by  this  kind 
of  work — for  a  change.  Perhaps,  when  I  regain 
my  freedom,  I  shall  then  take  up  some  sort  of  work 
as  a  hobby." 

"  You  can  be  free  as  soon  as  you  like,"  said  Miss 
Arkwright  carelessly. 

"  Ah !  but  at  a  price !  You  want  the  secret  of 
my  life.  I  shall  only  tell  you  the  tragic  story  when 
you  tell  me  something  of  yours.  Meanwhile  I  am 
quite  content  to  labor  here  on  parole.  It  is  true 
that  I  am  forbidden  the  village  —  I  am  not  even 
near  enough  the  wall  to  pass  the  time  of  day  (is  that 
the  local  phrase?)  with  the  outside  world.  But 


325 

until  I  know  more  I  am  not  anxious  to  leave  the 
most  delightful  tyrant  I  have  ever  met." 

"  You  ought  to  think  yourself  lucky,"  said  Lionel, 
"  that  you're  not  cooling  your  heels  in  jail." 

"  By  all  accounts,"  said  Tony  blandly,  "  I  might 
retort  with  a  tu  quoque" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Lionel,  puzzled. 
"What  do  you  know  of  me?  " 

Tony  shrugged. 

"  That  is  part  of  the  feuilleton,"  he  said.  "  As 
soon  as  you  like,  we  shall  exchange  stories.  Mean- 
while, permit  the  horny-handed  aristocrat  to  pass 
along." 

He  went  off  again,  whistling,  leaving  his  ques- 
tioners unsatisfied.  In  spite  of  the  mystery  of  his 
presence,  in  spite  of  the  recent  struggle,  both  Lionel 
and  his  hostess  felt  an  instinctive  liking  for  Tony. 
It  had  been  Miss  Arkwright's  idea  to  set  him  to 
work.  After  the  capture  Lionel  suggested  a  medi- 
eval treatment  of  bread-and-water  in  a  locked 
chamber.  Police  proceedings  were  naturally  out  of 
the  question.  But  Miss  Arkwright  was  original  in 
her  methods,  and  after  an  interview  with  the  un- 
abashed intruder,  had  given  him  a  choice  of  pen- 
alties. Either  he  might  elect  for  the  modern  equiva- 


326  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

lent  of  the  deepest  dungeon  beneath  the  moat,  or 
he  might  work  in  the  garden  on  parole.  She  saw 
he  was  a  gentleman,  and  suspected  him  of  being  an 
interesting  addition  to  The  Quiet  House.  So  Tony 
was  admitted  to  the  drawing-room  on  an  equality 
with  themselves.  The  mornings  and  afternoons  he 
spent  in  forced  labor,  a  victim  of  the  corvee;  his  mid- 
day meal  and  "  four  o'clocks  "  were  harmoniously 
eaten  in  the  potting-shed.  It  was  curious  to  observe 
a  grimy  navvy  enter  by  the  back  door,  to  appear  in 
the  drawing-room  later  dressed  in  a  lounge  suit, 
with  hair  carefully  parted.  When  he  played  or 
sang  to  them  it  seemed  still  more  incongruous,  but 
they  were  all  adaptable  creatures  and  there  was  no 
constraint. 

This  morning  it  was  very  hot,  and  Lionel  and 
Winifred  went  back  to  the  hammock-chairs  in  the 
shade.  The  heat  made  the  air  flicker  like  waves, 
and  even  the  midges  seemed  too  lazy  to  come  out. 
A  universal  torpor  hung  heavily  in  the  atmosphere; 
one  thought  regretfully  of  slaves  in  offices,  clerks 
on  stools,  perspiring  operators  in  factories.  For, 
whether  it  be  hot  or  cold,  work  has  to  be  done  by 
all  save  the  leisured  classes.  And  even  they  are 
sometimes  compelled  to  exert  themselves  either  by 
force  of  circumstances  or  a  sense  of  duty. 


It  was  the  latter  spur  that  roused  the  Reverend 
Charles  Peters  to  get  to  work  on  his  sermon  for 
next  Sunday.  True,  there  were  still  three  days' 
grace;  but  it  had  been  his  immemorial  custom  to 
begin  to  write  his  sermon  on  a  Wednesday,  and  noth- 
ing short  of  a  new  heresy  in  the  morning's  news- 
paper could  have  kept  him  from  his  desk.  Whether 
the  garden  tempted  him  to  dally  amid  roses,  or  a 
keen  frost  suggested  the  pleasures  of  a  brisk  walk 
—  whether  he  felt  disponiert  and  stored  with  tell- 
ing phrases,  or  empty  as  a  sieve  with  the  wind  blow- 
ing through  —  whether  his  digestion  was  in 
first-class  order  or  cried  aloud  for  a  liver-pill, — 
whatever  conditions  obtained,  duty  and  habit  drew 
Mr.  Peters  to  a  task  not  uncongenial.  So,  on  this 
morning  he  went  to  his  work  as  usual,  despite  the 
heat,  not  slothful  enough  to  delve  in  a  well-filled 
drawer  and  read  over  some  "  cold  meat  "  for  his 
parishioners.  He  established  himself  in  the  dining- 
room  —  luckily,  as  it  proved  —  for  his  study  was 

being  "  turned  out." 
\ 

As  a  preliminary  he  threw  open  both  windows 
and  removed  his  jacket  and  waistcoat.  Then  he 
lighted  a  pipe  and  settled  down  to  arrange  his 
thoughts.  He  had  not  been  meditating  for  more 
than  ten  minutes  when  his  wife  came  in. 


328  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  The  milkman's  account,  Charles,"  she  said. 
"  Can  you  settle  it  now?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  replied  the  vicar,  unlock- 
ing his  cash-box.  "  It's  extremely  hot  this  morn- 
ing, isn't  it?" 

"  It  is,"  agreed  Mrs.  Peters,  waiting  for  the 
money.  "  But,  Charles 

"Yes,  my  dear?" 

"  Do  you  think  it  quite  seemly  to  be  writing  your 
sermon  in  shirt-sleeves  ?  " 

"  It's  extremely  hot,  Clara." 

"  Yes.     But  a  sermon,  Charles !  " 

The  vicar  laughed. 

"  Would  you  have  me  write  it  behind  stained- 
glass  windows,  with  incense  burning  round  me  ?  " 

"  A  strict  Evangelical  -    - ! ! !  " 

"  I  was  only  joking,  Clara,"  said  the  vicar  quickly. 
"  Of  course,  I  shouldn't  dream  of " 

"  I  do  not  think  one  should  be  flippant  under  such 
circumstances.  Shirt-sleeves  and  a  pipe !  My  dear 
Charles - 

The  vicar  moved  a  little  restlessly. 

"  My  dear  Clara,  the  day's  very  hot  and  I'm  do- 
ing nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  If  the  bishop  of 
London  called  I'm  sure  he'd  say " 


A  TELEGRAM  AND  SUNDRIES      329 

"  Mr.  Bangs,"  said  the  housemaid  at  the  door, 
and  Robert  entered  with  a  troubled  mien. 

The  vicar  made  a  dash  for  his  discarded  garments 
and  performed  a  Protean  act  with  amazing  speed. 
His  wife,  true  to  her  salt,  interposed  between  her 
husband  and  the  visitor,  making  a  few  banal  re- 
marks about  the  weather.  She  did  not  shake  hands. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Bangs,"  said  the  vicar,  blush- 
ing despite  his  late  assertions  of  independence. 
"  You  find  me  trying  to  keep  cool  under  adverse  con- 
ditions. Had  I  known " 

"  The  weather  is  very  sultry,  is  it  not  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Peters,  with  a  glare  that  said,  "  I  told  you 
so!" 

Robert  surveyed  them  with  a  wild  and  unreceptive 
eye.  He  looked,  so  thought  the  vicar's  wife,  like  a 
man  dogged  by  the  officers  of  the  law. 

"  I  called,"  he  said  quickly,  "  because  I  wanted 
your  advice  and  help." 

"  Certainly,  if  I  can  be  of  any  use,"  replied  the 
vicar.  "Clara,  my  love ?" 

His  tone  indicated  a  request  that  she  would  leave 
them.  To  the  vicar's  intense  surprise,  his  love  made 
no  sign  of  compliance.  "  Perhaps  I  had  better  stay, 
Charles,"  she  said  grimly. 


330  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"But,  Clara " 

"I  —  I  should  like  to  speak  to  your  husband 
alone,"  said  Robert,  nervous  but  determined. 
"  You  see,  it  is  very  private " 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Bangs.  I  quite  understand. 
Perfectly  natural.  My  dear " 

"  I  think  not,  Charles.  Mr.  Bangs  will  under- 
stand why." 

"  I  don't  at  tall,"  said  Robert,  dismayed  and 
puzzled.  "  I  have  come  here  for  advice  and  help. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  to  make  a  confes- 
sion   " 

The  vicar  shrank. 

"  I  do  not  hear  confessions,"  he  said.  "  I  do  not 
approve " 

"Evangelical,"  snapped  Clara.  (Yes:  there  are 
vicar's  wives  who  snap,  and  she  was  one.) 

"  I  don't  understand,"  repeated  Robert  wearily. 
Then  suddenly  a  light  broke  on  him,  and  he  laughed. 
It  was  his  first  laugh  for  five  days.  "  Oh,  I  see ! 
I  don't  mean  that  kind  of  confession.  This  is  purely 
a  personal  matter  —  man  to  man." 

"  In  that  case,  my  love,  I  think " 

"  No,"  said  the  resolute  woman.  "  I  am  deter- 
mined that  you  shall  not  be  imposed  on  any  longer. 


A  TELEGRAM  AND  SUNDRIES      331 

I  have  kept  silence,  perhaps  too  long.     Mr.  Bangs, 
yesterday  I  telephoned  to  Bloomsbury  8436." 

"  What! "  said  Robert  with  a  moan.     "  You  tele- 
phoned there!" 


STILL   RUNNING 

WITH  a  glance  of  triumphant  contempt  at  the 
bladder  she  had  pricked  so  easily,  Mrs. 
Peters  turned  to  her  husband.  "  I  think,  Charles, 
that  I  can  safely  leave  you  now  to  hear  Mr.  Hedder- 
wick's  explanation.  I  have  no  wish  to  be  present 
during  a  painful  scene;  besides,  I  am  wanted  in  the 
larder." 

"Mr.  Hedderwick!"  repeated  the  vicar  blankly. 
"  What  do  you  mean,  Clara  ?  I  can  not  under- 
stand —  I  have  no  idea  —  you  must " 

"  He  will  tell  you,"  said  the  lady,  vouchsafing 
nothing  further.  After  all,  she  had  had  a  fair  share 
of  the  lime-light,  and  there  was  no  need  to  risk  an 
anticlimax.  "If  you  had  only  listened  to  me  when 
I  warned  you  .  .  .  but  there!  men  are  all  alike." 

She  swept  from  the  room,  and  the  bewildered 
clergyman  appealed  to  the  heap  in  the  chair. 

"  Mr.  Bangs  —  Mr.  Hedderwick,  perhaps  I  ought 
to  say  —  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  what 

it  all  means  ?  " 

332 


STILL  RUNNING  333 

Robert  raised  a  stricken  head. 

"  I  thought,  Mr.  Peters,  that  things  were  bad 
enough  when  I  came.  Your  wife's  news  proves  to 
me  that  I  am  wrong.  My  name  is  not  Bangs,  but 
Hedderwick." 

"  So  I  gathered,"  said  the  vicar  uncomfortably. 
"  I  think  you  owe  me  an  explanation  of  your  reasons 
for  adopting  a  false  name." 

Robert   glanced   wildly  at  the   clock. 

"  There  is  no  time  to  go  into  details  now.  She 
may  be  here  at  any  minute.  But  for  the  moment, 
Mr.  Peters,  please  accept  my  word  that  I  am  in- 
volved in  no  disgrace  —  no  shameful  action.  I  am 
a  churchwarden " 

"  You  really  are  ?  "  There  was  excuse  for  the  im- 
plied doubt. 

"  I  really  am,  and  innocent.  My  fault  is  an  ex- 
cessive love  for  romance  and  a  temporary  desertion 
of  my  wife.  Oh !  do  not  misunderstand  me !  "  he 
begged,  as  he  noticed  an  ecclesiastical  stiffening. 
"  I  simply  ran  away  for  a  short  holiday  —  I  meant 
to  go  back  very  soon !  Surely,  surely,  you  can  un- 
derstand !  You  are  married  —  I  mean,  a  clergyman 
in  the  exercise  of  his  duties  must  have  a  wide  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  —  a  certain  sympathy  .  .  ." 


334  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  I  can  understand,"  said  the  vicar  thoughtfully, 
perhaps  flattered  at  the  tribute  to  his  worldly  knowl- 
edge. "  I  can  not  praise  —  possibly  can  not  sympa- 
thize; but  at  least  I  may  fairly  claim  to 
understand." 

"  Thank  you  —  thank  you!  Well,  to  be  as  brief 
as  I  can  (and  every  minute  is  precious!),  my  friend 
and  I  had  reason  to  suspect  the  occupants  of  The 
Quiet  House  - 

"  Ha!  "  The  vicar  pricked  up  his  ears.  "  Cer- 
tain hints  and  whisperings  have  drifted  round  to  me 
in  the  course  of  my  parochial  visiting,  but  • 

"  Please,  please,  don't  interrupt.  You  forget  the 
London  train !  Mr.  Wild  and  I  entered  The  Quiet 
House  garden  by  night  to  watch " 

"Surely  that " 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  yes !  Most  reprehensible,  but  you 
do  not  know  all.  We  watched,  were  discovered,  and 
in  making  our  escape  Mr.  Wild  was  captured.  I 
have  not  seen  him  since." 

"What!" 

"  For  five  days  I  have  been  alone,  miserable,  in 
doubt  and  anguish.  I  have  wondered,  waited,  made 
cautious  inquiries.  Nothing  has  happened.  What 
am  I  to  do?" 

"You  suspect ?"  queried  the  vicar  in  d?' 


STILL  RUNNING  335 

lightful  horror.  He  felt  his  hair  bristling  in  antici- 
pation. 

"  I  do  not  know  ...  I  can  not  guess.  They  say 
it  is  high  politics  —  the  Turkish  government  .... 
A  spy  ....  I  do  not  know  what  to  believe. 
What  can  I  do?" 

The  vicar,  who  prided  himself  on  being  a  business 
man,  mused  for  a  moment,  chin  on  hand. 

"  Suppose,"  he  said  brightly,  "  that  Mott,  the  local 
policeman,  applied  for  a  search-warrant  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  not  invoke  the  aid  of  the  police, 
if  possible.  There  may  be  nothing  serious  after  all, 
and  in  that  case  we  should  look  ridiculous.  Besides 
...  I  wondered  if  you  could  call?  " 

The  vicar  seemed  pleased,  but  apprehensive. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  "  I  would  face  any  danger 
if  necessary  and  for  a  good  cause.  But  I  have  my 
flock  to  think  of.  ...  If  matters  are  as  serious 
as  you  suggest,  might  there  not  be  a  second  kid- 
naping? One  hesitates  to  be  melodramatic,  but 
the  possibilities  of  .  .  ." 

"  They  would  not  dare  to  touch  a  minister  of  the 
church.  There  would  be  an  outcry " 

"  True  .  .  .  true  .  .  .  but  would  they  admit 
me?  I  have  called  and  been  denied.  Do  you 
think. " 


336  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

He  paused,  as  a  motor-horn  sounded  from  the 
road.  The  noise  of  the  engine  was  plainly  heard. 
A  moment  later  and  the  gate  leading  to  the  drive 
opened.  The  vicar  walked  to  the  window. 

"Who  can  this  be?"  he  said  in  surprise.  "A 
motor-car,  and  in  the  morning !  I  hope  he'll  be  care- 
ful of  the  borders." 

Robert  joined  him  at  the  window,  his  heart  filled 
with  anxious  questioning.  As  he  watched  the  car 
drive  slowly  in  he  clutched  the  vicar's  arm.  "  She 
has  changed  her  plan !  "  he  gasped.  "  It's  my  wife ! 
You  must  hide  me  quick !  " 

"  B  —  but,"  stammered  Mr.  Peters,  "  there's  no 
sense  in  that !  Pull  yourself  together,  Mr.  Bangs  — 
Mr.  Hedderwick,  I  mean.  You  say  you  have  done 
nothing  wrong.  Why  not  face  her  and  get  it  over 
at  once  like  a  man  ?  " 

Robert,  pallid  in  face  and  soul,  gripped  him  more 
tightly,  his  knees  shaking.  The  desperate  need  of 
the  moment  scorned  the  veneer  of  discretion.  "  You 
said  you  understood,"  he  hissed  fiercely.  "  Do  you 
always  stand  up  to  Mrs.  Peters?" 

The  vicar  avoided  his  eye,  but  his  answer  brought 
hope  to  Robert.  "Come  along!"  he  said  briskly, 
going  to  the  door.  He  threw  it  open,  and  was  dis- 
appointed to  find  his  wife  in  the  hall.  That  way 


STILL  RUNNING  337 

of  escape  was  blocked.  "A  caller,  my  dear!"  he 
said,  trying  to  cover  his  embarrassment.  "If  I'm 
wanted,  I  shall  be  in  here."  He  returned  to  the 
room  and  closed  the  door.  "  You're  caught,  Mr. 
Hedderwick,  I'm  afraid.  I'm  very  sorry,  but  you'll 
have  to  face  it,  after  all." 

"  No,  no !  "  said  Robert.  "  Isn't  there  another 
door  —  a  window  ?  " 

"  The  chauffeur's  outside.  Yes ;  by  jove !  there's 
the  buttery  hatch.  Behind  the  screen !  Get  through 
that  and  out  of  the  pantry  window  !  It  opens  on  the 
back.  After  that  you  must  look  out  for  yourself. 
I  won't  tell  any  lies  on  your  behalf,  but  —  but  I'll 
try  to  give  you  a  —  a  sporting  start !  " 

Robert  breathed  a  blessing  on  his  head.  Then, 
with  some  ado,  he  lifted  the  hatch  and  crawled 
through.  The  vicar  closed  it  behind  him,  heard  the 
pantry  window  open  with  a  noiseless  chuckle,  and 
then  braced  himself  to  face  a  pair  of  indignant  ladies. 
He  had  not  long  to  wait,  for,  a  minute  after  Robert 
had  gained  the  road,  Mrs.  Peters  introduced  his 
visitor.  Mrs.  Hedderwick  glanced  round  the  room 
much  as  a  terrier  who  has  been  told  there  is  a  rat 
about,  and  without  waiting  for  apologies  or  declara- 
tions, said  with  an  extraordinary  bitterness,  "  Where 
is  my  husband  ?  " 


338  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  He  was  here  a  moment  ago,"  replied  the  vicar, 
nervous,  but  not  without  a  certain  enjoyment  of  the 
scene.  "  I  suppose  that  you  are  looking  forward  to 
—  a  reunion  —  a " 

"  I  am,"  said  Mrs.  Hedderwick  with  a  vindictive 
quietness.  "Where  is  he?  Hiding  under  the 
table?" 

"  My  dear  madam,"  expostulated  the  vicar,  sup- 
pressing a  wish  to  get  there  himself,  so  alarming 
was  her  eye,  "  do  you  imagine  — 

"  I  want  to  know  where  he  is! "  interrupted  the 
lady,  still  dangerously  calm  and  determined.  "  Mrs. 
Peters  most  kindly  —  most  kindly  telephoned  to  say 
that  he  was  in  Shereling,  and  she  has  just  said  that 
she  left  him  here.  Where  is  he?  " 

"  He  has  gone,"  said  the  vicar  dreamily,  looking 
out  of  the  window  and  wondering  whether  Robert 
had  reached  The  Happy  Heart.  A  good  runner, 
he  reflected,  might  perhaps  have  succeeded,  but  Mr. 
Bangs  was  no  longer  young. 

"Gone!"  ejaculated  both  ladies  together,  and  for 
once  in  his  life  the  amiable  clergyman  had  the  satis- 
faction of  communicating  dramatic  and  exclusive 
news. 

"Gone!"  repeated  Mrs.  Peters.  "Oh,  Charles! 
Where?  How?" 


STILL  RUNNING  339 

"  Gone !  "  said  Mrs.  Hedderwick,  with  a  rising 
inflection.  "  You  have  helped " 

"  How  could  I  detain  him?  "  urged  the  vicar,  re- 
treating behind  a  chair.  "  Why  blame  me  ?  Could 
I  be  expected  to  keep  him  here  by  force?  If  Mr. 
Hedderwick  preferred  to  depart  by  the  buttery 
hatch- 

"  The  buttery  hatch." 

"  Let  me  show  you,"  said  the  vicar  helpfully, 
thinking  that  a  reconstruction  of  the  crime  might 
divert  a  morbid  interest  in  himself.  "  You  see  here 
it  is,  behind  the  screen.  Mr.  Hedderwick  opened  it, 
climbed  through " 

"  I  do  not  believe  it !     It  is  too  small  for " 

"  My  dear  madam,"  expostulated  the  vicar 
warmly,  annoyed  at  having  his  veracity  impugned, 
"  I  assure  you  it  was  so.  Try  for  yourself!  " 

In  her  rage  Mrs.  Hedderwick  raised  her  arm  as 
if  to  strike  the  impious  suggester.  Mrs.  Peters  in- 
terposed, as  the  vicar  quailed,  and  the  situation  was 
saved. 

"  Charles !  What  an  indelicate  thought !  Im- 
agine a  lady  like  Mrs.  Hedderwick  crawling " 

The  vicar  had  been  through  an  anxious  quarter 
of  an  hour.  His  nerves  were  on  strings,  and  at  any 
moment  the  tension  might  prove  too  strong.  Had 


340  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

he  been  master  of  himself  —  had  he  possessed  no 
sense  of  humor  —  had  his  late  guest  not  presented 
so  ridiculous  an  appearance  in  his  exit,  all  might  have 
yet  been  well.  But  the  image  projected  upon  his 
brain  by  the  words  of  his  wife  (who  had  but  an 
imperfect  sympathy  with  comedy)  was  too  much. 
He  did  not  roar  aloud,  as  he  could  have  wished, 
but  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  leaned  upon 
the  mantelpiece.  The  heaving  of  the  shoulders  gave 
evidence  of  his  emotion. 

"  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Hedderwick,  after  a  dread- 
ful pause,  "  that  your  husband  is  hardly  himself." 

"  I  will  attend  to  him  presently,"  replied  Mrs. 
Peters  with  menacing  sympathy.  "  Come,  Mrs. 
Hedderwick :  I  am  sorry  you  should  meet  with  such 
a  disappointment.  Your  best  course  would  be  to 
drive  to  The  Happy  Heart,  where  I  understand  the 
fugitive  is  staying." 

They  left  the  room,  without  deigning  to  bestow 
any  further  notice  on  the  vicar.  He,  unhappy  man, 
pulled  himself  together  too  late.  He  wiped  his 
eyes  and  rushed  after  them  to  offer  seemly  apologies. 
But  as  he  reached  his  garden  gate  he  saw  the  motor 
drive  off.  Behind  the  chauffeur  were  seated  Mrs. 
Hedderwick  and  his  wife.  Mrs.  Peters  was  re- 
solved, if  possible,  to  be  in  at  the  death. 


STILL  RUNNING  341 

"  After  all,"  thought  the  vicar  when  he  realized 
that  he  could  do  nothing  to  reestablish  himself, 
"  why  shouldn't  I,  too,  see  what  is  going  to  happen? 
Hedderwick  suggested  I  should  call  at  The  Quiet 
House.  ...  I  might  try  again.  .  .  .  His  suspi- 
cion, surely,  can  not  be  founded  on  fact,  but  at  least 
it  will  be  interesting  —  nay,  a  positive  duty!  If  a 
fellow  creature  wants  our  services,  we  ought  to  spare 
neither  time  nor  trouble  —  well,  Brown!  what  is 
it?" 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir!  "  said  the  odd-job  man,  touch- 
ing his  hat.  Mr.  Peters  noticed  with  astonishment 
that  he  was  in  his  Sunday  clothes.  "  I  want  to  give 
notice ! " 

"  I  can't  be  bothered  with  that  now,"  said  the 
vicar  impatiently.  "  I  am  particularly  busy. 
Come  to  me " 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,  but  I  want  to  go  at  once,"  he 
said,  interrupting  the  vicar. 

The  latter  stared. 

"  But  that's  most  unusual  and  inconsiderate.  If 
you  want  to  go,  a  week's  notice " 

"  It's  too  important  for  that,  sir.  Of  course  1 
am  ready  to  forego  my  week's  wages,  but  go  I 
must." 

"  Not  a  death  in  the  family,  I  hope  ?  "  said  Mn 


342  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Peters,  subduing  the  impatience  of  his  tone.  "  If 
so,  I'm  very  sorry,  and  of  course " 

"  No,  sir :  nothing  serious  —  serious  in  that  sense 
at  least.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  give  notice  in  such  a 
hurry,  but  it  must  be  done." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  vicar,  resuming  an 
every-day  voice.  "  Legally,  of  course,  you  couldn't 
demand  your  wages;  but  I  have  no  intention  of 
standing  on  the  letter  of  the  law.  I  might  as  well 
pay  you  now.  Let's  see  — — "  He  searched  his 
pockets  for  change. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  the  odd-job  man. 
"  You're  very  good  to  be  so  reasonable,  and  I  wish 
I  could  oblige  you  by  staying.  Instead,  if  you'll 
kindly  put  a  sovereign  in  the  poor-box  for  me,  I  shall 
be  satisfied." 

"  Eh  —  eh !  "  stammered  the  vicar.  "  Has  all 
the  world  gone  mad  this  morning?  A  sovereign  in 
the  poor-box,  from  my  gardener!  Wh  — 
what " 

"  A  little  mad,  sir  ?  "  smiled  Henry  Brown.  "  Per- 
haps there's  some  excuse.  Good-by  and  thank  you." 

He  touched  his  hat  and  left  the  Shereling  garden 
forever.  Mr.  Peters  stared  dumbly  after  him.  He 
could  make  nothing  of  it,  however,  so  he  came  to 


STILL  RUNNING  343 

the  sensible  resolution  of  setting  out  on  his  investi- 
gations at  once.  Taking  a  stick  in  his  hand,  he 
trudged  toward  The  Quiet  House.  Here,  by  the 
way,  he  was  told  there  was  nobody  at  home. 

Henry  Brown,  whistling  a  cheerful  strain,  betook 
himself  to  The  Happy  Heart.  He  found  the  motor- 
car standing  outside,  the  chauffeur  indulging  in  a 
cigarette.  Voices  from  the  parlor  indicated  that  the 
landlord  was  trying  to  reason  with  two  ladies, 
neither  of  whom  seemed  to  be  amenable  to  treat- 
ment. 

"But  he's  gorn,  I  tell  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  voice 
of  Mr.  Glew  despairingly.  "  Ran  in  here,  he  did,  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  ago:  out  again  in  five 
minutes " 

"  I  think  you  are  prevaricating,  Glew,"  said  the 
acid  tones  of  Mrs.  Peters.  "  Your  manner  is  not 
straightforward  at  all  this  morning " 

"  And  we  shan't  be  satisfied  till  you  have  shown 
us  his  room,"  added  Mrs.  Hedderwick.  "  So 
there!" 

As  the  landlord  resumed  the  mournful  chant,  ap- 
parently relying  on  tautological  emphasis  rather  than 
reasoned  argument  or  ocular  demonstration  (a  sug- 
gestion that  seemed  unwelcome),  Henry  Brown 


344  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

smiled  and  passed  into  the  bar.  Addressing  the 
Boots,  a  "  lad  "  of  sixty-three,  who  acted  as  bar- 
man, beater,  stable-boy,  or  butler  as  occasion  or 
the  seasons  demanded,  he  said,  "  Is  Miss  Schmidt 
ready?" 

"  B'leeve  so,"  said  the  Boots.  "  But  I'll  tell  her 
you're  here." 

He  went  out,  but  returned  shortly,  followed  by 
Mizzi,  who  was  dressed  for  traveling.  "  Ah !  "  said 
she,  with  a  radiant  smile  of  welcome.  "  I  have  not 
kept  you  waiting  long,  have  I  ?  " 

"  Five  days,"  answered  Henry,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  the  Boots.  "  Five  wasted  days.  Can't 
think  why  you  wanted  to  stay  here  all  that  time. 
After  being " 

He  paused.  He  was  about  to  say  "  sacked,"  but 
from  consideration  of  his  audience,  refrained. 
Mizzi  thanked  him  with  a  laugh. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said  very  cheerfully.  "  The  separa- 
tion —  shall  we  say  ?  —  was  due  to  —  guess !  " 

"  Dunno,"  said  Henry,  watching  her  fasten  her 
glove  with  admiring  eyes. 

"Jealousy!"  she  flashed,  with  a  ripple  of  merri- 
ment. "Think  of  it!  Jealousy]  Even  I  could 
have  hardly  credited  it.  But  I  bear  her  no  ill-will. 
On  the  contrary,  I  regard  her  as  more  human  and 


STILL  RUNNING  345 

could  love  her  still  more.      (Bother  —  bother  —  r 
—  r  this  glove.     Can  you ?") 

"But  why  did  you  wait?"  he  grumbled,  fasten- 
ing the  glove  and  taking  as  long  as  he  could  for  the 
pleasure  of  pressing  her  dainty  wrist. 

"  I  will  be  frank,"  she  said,  laughing  temptingly. 
Henry  dumbly  cursed  the  Boots.  "  Curiosity !  I 
wanted  to  watch  a  little  longer.  But  I  foresee  the 
end  of  the  play  and  am  ready  to  go.  Let  us  be 
off!" 

"  Your  luggage  has  gone  to  the  station  ?  " 

'  Yes,  and  it  is  time  we  followed.     Come ! " 

"  A  kiss  first,"  said  Henry,  hungrily  bending  for- 
ward. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Peters,  Mrs.  Hedderwick 
and  the  landlord  (the  latter  still  emitting  "  But  he's 
gorn  —  varnished,  I  tell  you!  ")  came  from  the  par- 
lor. They  halted  on  observing  the  obvious  sweet- 
hearts standing  in  the  passage.  Mrs.  Peters,  her 
finest  instincts  revolting  from  such  a  naked  display 
of  animalism  —  and  in  the  morning,  too !  —  at  once 
relinquished  the  lacquered  Mr.  Hedderwick  for  a 
more  congenial  theme. 

"  Bro^w,l"  she  ejaculated  in  tones  that  would 
have  chilled  a  satyr.  "Brown!  how  disgusting! 
Go  to  your  work  at  once ! " 


346  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

The  odd-job  man  could  not  restrain  a  natural 
blush,  but  he  was  man  enough  to  stand  his  ground. 
The  presence  of  Mizzi  confirmed  his  courage  and 
quickened  his  wits. 

"  Mr.  Brown,  if  you  please,  ma'am,"  He  said 
quietly  but  with  resolution.  "  I've  left  your  serv- 
ice and  am  my  own  master  now." 

Mrs.  Peters,  justly  annoyed  at  being  thus  spoken 
to  by  a  menial,  changed  her  line  of  attack. 

"  So  this  is  the  explanation !  "  she  said,  wishing 
she  had  a  lorgnette  for  Mizzi's  benefit.  She  sur- 
veyed her  with  a  severity  that  ought  to  have  ap- 
palled. The  survey  gave  her  no  comfort,  for 
Mizzi  was  dressed  tc  perfection.  "  So  this  is  the 
young  woman ! " 

"  A  deplorable  exhibition,"  said  Mrs.  Hedder- 
wick  dispassionately.  "  The  lower  classes  — 

The  young  woman  gave  a  most  impertinent 
laugh,  and  said,  "  Come,  Henry !  We  shall  miss  the 
train!" 

They  left  The  Happy  Heart;  and  the  landlord, 
who  had  recovered  breath,  but  not  a  fresh  inspira- 
tion, during  the  interlude,  took  up  the  tale  again. 

Outside,  the  odd- job  man,  whose  face  was  flushed, 
swore.  "  I  wish  they  were  men ! "  he  said  vin- 


STILL  RUNNING  347 

dictively:  "if  they  were,  I'd  teach  'em  a  lesson  in 
manners.  By  jove!  I'd  like  to  get  even  with " 

"  Do  not  worry,"  said  Mizzi  soothingly.  "  After 
all,  I  am  a  young  woman.  Mesdames  would  give 
their  ears  to  be  the  same." 

Henry  stopped  dead,  an  idea  having  come  upon 
him.  With  a  growing  light  in  his  eye  he  surveyed 
the  motor-car  and  the  chauffeur,  who  in  turn  sur- 
veyed Mizzi  with  a  gathering  admiration.  He  even 
threw  away  the  cigarette. 

"  I  say,"  said  Henry,  "  this  isn't  a  private  car  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  chauffeur,  glad  of  a  chance  fur- 
ther to  admire  this  enchanting  damsel.  "  General 
Motor-Car  Company.  Druv  the  ole  gal  down  from 
London  s'morning.  Made  me  crawl,  too." 

"  Driving  her  back  ?  " 

The  chauffeur  suppressed  an  instinct  to  spit  dis- 
gustedly and  said,  "  Yes,  wuss  luck."  Mizzi  ob- 
served them,  wondering. 

"  What  would  you  take,"  said  Henry,  breathing 
hard,  "to  drive  us  back  instead?" 

The  chauffeur  shook  his  head. 

"  I'd  lose  my  job." 

"  Five  pounds  ?  "  hinted  Henry. 

"  A  job's  a  job." 


348  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  I'll  find  you  another." 

"Garn!" 

"Straight!  I'm  Henry  Brown,  taxicab  propri- 
etor, Bloomsbury.  Is  that  good  enough?" 

"And  a  fiver?"  stipulated  the  chauffeur,  avari- 
cious but  cautious. 

"  Here  you  are,"  said  Henry,  diving  into  his 
pocket.  A  note  changed  hands,  and  the  chauffeur 
assumed  a  bland  demeanor.  "Jump  in!"  he  said 
concisely ;  "  it's  a  bet ! " 

"  Oh,  but  "  objected  Mizzi,  hanging  back. 

"  Romance!  "  whispered  Henry.  "  .You  said  you 
liked  it!  Quick!  Quick!" 

She  jumped  in,  smiling  happily. 

"  You  are  a  dear !  " 

"And  you're  a  darling!  "  he  said,  getting  in  be- 
side her  and  shutting  the  door.  "  Now,  William, 
give  'em  the  horn  and  then  London!" 

Honk!    Honk! 

"Once  more!" 

Honk!    Honk! 

Mrs.  Hedderwick  appeared  fretfully  at  the  porch. 
"Do  not  make  that  exasperating  noise!"  she  com- 
manded. And  then  —  "  What!  what  imperti- 
nence —  what !  " 

"Higher  up,  William!"  said  Henry  peacefully. 


STILL  RUNNING  349 

Good-by,     madam ! "     and    he     raised    his    hat. 
There,  my  little  foreigner;  will  that  do?  " 
"Oh,  Harry  dear!" 

And    Harry    dear    had    no    time    even    to    say 
Good  biz!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CERTAINTY AHA ! 

LET  us  go  back  a  couple  of  hours  and  see  what 
has  been  engaging  Miss  Arkwright  and  Lionel 
since  their  interview  with  Tony.  They  are  still 
reclining  in  the  hammock-chair,  which  they  have 
been  obliged  to  move,  more  than  once,  retreating 
before  the  all-conquering  sun.  They  have  talked 
for  a  space,  but  nothing  of  their  conversation  is 
worthy  of  a  recorder's  pen,  and  at  last  they  have 
fallen  silent,  each  occupied  with  busy  musings. 
Lionel,  of  course,  has  had  plenty  to  think  about 
since  the  early  telegram  —  new  schemes  to  mature, 
fresh  hopes  to  be  weighed,  old  difficulties  to  brush 
aside  or  evade.  Winifred's  silence,  too,  is  not  ex- 
traordinary. Apart  from  her  secret  history  —  and 
she  must  have  a  secret,  to  be  sure,  if  not  a  dozen 
—  there  is  matter  for  consideration  in  her  present 
milieu.  Putting  aside  the  trival  incident  of  the  five- 
days'-old  attack  (and  an  intriguer  can  not  spend 
much  time  on  trifles,  especially  when  they  end  hap- 
pily), there  is  the  problem  of  Tony  to  be  pondered 


CERTAINTY  —  AHA !  351 

over.  But,  at  the  worst,  he  can  only  be  looked 
on  as  a  light-hearted  dilettante,  whose  greatest  mis- 
fortune is  the  curse  of  wealth.  Such,  at  least,  is 
Winifred's  shrewd  guess,  and  we  know  how  near 
the  mark  the  arrow  has  fallen.  Then,  Lionel  .  .  . 
what  shall  she  do  with  him?  Is  it  better  to  keep 
him  with  her  longer,  a  cheerful  gentleman  who 
seems  quite  content  to  waste  his  time  in  her  com- 
pany, despite  the  chilling  fact  that  he  appears  equally 
content  to  chaff  their  prisoner  if  she  is  busy  in  the 
house?  Or  shall  she  send  him  away? 

Winifred  stole  a  glance  at  Lionel,  pondering  with 
knit  brows,  and  permitted  herself  a  smile  that  was 
unseen  by  him.  Was  she  thinking  of  his  pursuit 
in  the  garden,  the  hurled  water-jug,  or  the  expo- 
sure of  Mizzi?  Perhaps  the  latter;  for  the  smile 
was  followed  by  a  delectable  frown  that  did  not 
mar  the  poetry  of  her  face.  It  seemed,  indeed,  to 
act  but  as  a  foil,  enhancing  the  smile  that  followed 
again  like  a  victor, —  a  victor  that  has  retreated, 
only  to  return. 

As  she  wondered  and  smiled,  Forbes  came  across 
the  lawn  and  handed  the  morning's  letters  on  a 
tray.  The  post  had  just  come  in. 

"  Three  for  me,"  said  Winifred,  picking  up  the 
letters.  "  And  one  for  you." 


352  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Lionel  took  it  with  a  lazy  gratitude.  What 
had  letters  to  do  with  him  this  heavenly  morn- 
ing, when  he  had  had  a  wire  to  say  that  his  mistress 
was  free  ?  How  much  better  to  pursue  the  current 
of  his  thoughts  and  try  to  make  up  his  mind,  once 
and  for  all,  whether  he  loved  Beatrice  enough 
to  ask  her  to  marry  him!  Without  glancing  at  the 
postmark  or  handwriting  he  murmured,  "  Excuse 
me !  "  and  tore  open  the  flap.  The  first  few  sen- 
tences made  him  sit  bolt  upright  in  his  chair. 
"  Good  heavens !  "  he  murmured,  reading  hastily 
on.  His  face  grew  dark,  and  the  jaw  set 
ominously  the  more  he  read.  Winifred,  watching 
him  with  a  stealthy  interest,  had  not  yet  opened  her 
budget. 

"  I  hope  it  is  no  bad  news?  "  she  said  with  a  soft 
sympathy. 

"  The  worst,"  said  Lionel  with  a  grim  absence, 
not  looking  up.  Presently  his  face  cleared  and  he 
smiled.  "  That  is,"  he  corrected  himself,  with  a 
hasty  glance  at  her,  "  I  mean  the  best.  Yes,  cer- 
tainly the  best." 

Winifred  bit  her  lip  and  looked  away  with  a 
puzzled  discontent.  What  did  he  mean?  The 
worst  and  the  best  .  .  .  strong  words  for  a  man 
of  his  age  to  use.  The  "  worst  "  and  the  "  best  " 


CERTAINTY  —  AHA !  353 

should  only  be  applied  to  strong  emotions,  such  as 
are  caused  by  love,  money,  or  honor.  Which  of 
these  potent  stimulants  was  at  work? 

"  I  am  going  in,"  she  said  suddenly.  "  Please 
don't  get  up.  If  I  can  be  of  any  help  in  any  way, 
you  must  let  me  know.  But  I  ...  I  am  glad  your 
news  is  '  the  best.' ' 

She  went  into  the  house,  leaving  Lionel  to  his 
letter.  This  was  it. 

"BLOOMSBURY,  LONDON. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — The  cable  announcing  Lukos' 
death  came  to-night  at  seven.  As  soon  as  I  had  re- 
covered from  the  shock  I  wired  the  news  to  you, 
but  I  do  not  expect  that  the  telegram  will  be  de- 
livered till  to-morrow  morning.  And  now,  at  half 
past  eight,  I  am  sitting  down  to  write  very  hur- 
riedly, to  tell  you  of  my  plans. 

"  I  mean  to  go  straight  to  Constantinople  within 
two  days.  Why?  To  make  sure,  in  the  first  in- 
stance —  to  find  out  for  myself  if  he  is  really  dead, 
and  if  it  was  '  measles  '  or  something  worse.  I  feel 
that  the  news  must  be  true,  but  I  must  make  cer- 
tain. If  it  is  true,  then  perhaps  I  can  do  something 
by  way  of  revenge.  You,  I  hope,  will  still  befriend 
me  by  trying  to  regain  the  stolen  papers.  They 
may  be  of  use  to  England  yet.  If  not  to  England, 
then  to  me  —  a  woman  who  has  lost  her  husband. 
This  is  no  time  to  assess  my  love  for  him,  but  I  owe 


354  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

something  at  least  to  his  memory,  and  the  debt  shall 
be  paid. 

"  I  must  see  you  before  leaving,  and  I  hope  to 
come  down  to  Shereling  to-morrow.  Please  tell 
my  sister.  You  know  our  differences,  but  I  am 
sure  she  will  sympathize  and  help  me.  Yes;  I  am 
sure.  I  believe  now  that  I  was  wrong  in  suspect- 
ing her  —  my  information  was  untrustworthy,  but 
I  had  every  excuse.  In  haste. —  Your  friend, 

"  BEATRICE  BLAIR." 

Lionel's  heart  leaped  as  he  read  a  second  and  a 
third  time  the  words  of  comfort.  At  the  first 
casual  glance  he  could  only  understand  that  Be- 
atrice was  going  out  of  his  life,  perhaps  forever, 
and  he  plumbed  depths  hitherto  undreamed  of.  But 
after  the  blow  came  the  reaction  and  a  saner  grasp 
of  the  true  importance  of  her  news.  He  was  on 
fire,  yet  coldly  logical.  The  white  heat  of  his  heart 
and  brain  told  him  that  here  at  last  was  hope 
realized,  the  goal  reached,  the  attainment  of  cer- 
tainty. The  knowledge  that  he  could  not  bear  to 
lose  her  told  him  that  he  loved,  and  that  his  love 
was  worthy  of  a  declaration.  He  breathed  a 
prayer  of  thankfulness. 

Doubt  of  a  prosaic  nature  was  swift  to  follow. 
He  loved  her  and  must  ask  her  to  marry  him.  Yet, 
how  could  he  ask  her?  He  had  not  a  penny  in  the 


CERTAINTY  —  AHA !  355 

world  save  what  she  had  given  him  as  her  paid 
employee.  How  could  he  ask  her  to  wed  and 
coolly  propose  to  live  on  her  income  ?  Lionel  made 
short  work  of  that.  "  I  know,"  he  said  to  himself, 
thinking  swiftly  but  with  honest  logic,  "  that  I  am 
not  mercenary.  I  would  marry  her  in  rags  if  she'd 
have  me.  As  she  happens  to  have  money,  so  much 
the  better.  If  by  good  luck  she  loves  or  learns  to 
love  me,  she  will  not  think  me  mercenary.  Why 
should  a  pair  of  lovers  wait  when  the  only  obstacle 
is  a  convention?  —  a  convention  good  enough  in 
itself  (a  proper  discouragement  of  the  ordinary 
place-hunter  and  hypocrite)  —  but  a  convention 
none  the  less.  The  exception  shall  prove  the  rule, 
for  neither  she  nor  I  could  be  accused  of  conven- 
tionality." 

He  laughed  aloud.  Still,  there  was  a  kind  of 
discomfort  in  the  laugh,  for  the  conventions  of  a 
thousand  years  or  more  can  not  be  laughed  away 
in  a  moment,  be  the  iconoclast  never  so  hardy.  In 
spite  of  his  honesty  and  brave  words,  Lionel,  in 
the  dim  recesses  of  consciousness,  knew  that  he 
wished  he  could  have  said,  "  My  dear,  I  love  you 
and  can  afford  to  pay  for  a  home!"  He  knew 
that  from  the  idealist's  standpoint  he  was  right,  but 
the  purest  cups  of  nectar  may  reveal  an  acid  in  the 


356  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

lees.     Still,  he  drank  his  nectar  and  was  very  glad. 

Presently  his  face  grew  graver.  "  I  must  wait 
though,"  he  reflected.  "  One  can't  propose  the  mo- 
ment one  hears  she  is  a  widow  —  too  indecent. 
Besides,  she  may  not  love  me.  ...  I  must  give 
her  time.  ...  At  least,  though,  I'll  go  with  her 
to  Constantinople.  If  she  won't  think  of  me  as  a 
husband  or  lover,  by  jove!  I'll  be  her  dragoman! 
She  mustn't  go  there  alone.  .  .  .  And  now,  let's 
break  the  news  to  Winifred." 

He  found  Miss  Arkwright  in  the  library  and  told 
her  of  her  sister's  intention  to  come  down  to  The 
Quiet  House.  To  his  disgust  she  began  to  make 
difficulties. 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Mortimer,  that  we  do  not  agree 
on  her  choice  of  a  career " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said  impatiently.  "  I  know  all 
that.  But  this  is  a  serious  business.  She  is  go- 
ing to  Turkey  in  a  day  or  two,  and  wishes  to  see 
me  before  leaving.  Surely " 

"  She  does  me  the  honor  of  suspecting  me  of 
conspiracy,"  returned  Miss  Arkwright  slowly,  but 
with  a  resentful  gleam.  "  I  have  told  you  that  she 
is  mistaken.  Why  should  a  conspirator  lend  her 
hospitality  ?  " 


CERTAINTY  —  AHA !  357 

"  She  acknowledges  her  error,"  said  Lionel. 
"You  must  forgive  much  to  a  woman  who  has 
suffered  so  cruelly  as  she." 

"  I  will  not,"  said  Winifred  deliberately.  "  I  have 
not  said  much  to  you  on  the  subject,  but  now  I 
will  not  conceal  from  you  that  I  have  been  deeply 
wounded." 

"  Are  you  not  great  enough  to  forgive  ? "  he 
urged,  fair  play  telling  him  that  she  had  a  right  to 
feel  indignation  —  if  she  were  innocent !  He  tried 
in  vain  to  find  a  melting  in  her  eye. 

"No,"  said  Winifred,  still  very  deliberately  and 
coldly.  "  I  am  a  woman,  and  can  not  forgive  her 
lack  of  trust  as  yet.  I  will  yield  so  far  as  to  al- 
low her  to  come  here  and  see  you,  as  she  is  going 
abroad,  but  I  will  not  see  her  myself." 

"  Your  sister  ?  "   he   suggested,   still  hoping. 

"  No,"  repeated  Winifred.  "  On  that  I  am  im- 
movable. Be  content  and  —  leave  me !  " 

Her  voice  trembled  over  the  concluding  words, 
and  the  next  moment  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands,  leaning  forward  over  the  table.  There  were 
no  sobs  —  no  tears  escaping  from  that  indomitable 
lady,  but  her  attitude  was  eloquent  of  tragedy.  Li- 
onel was  not  so  foolish  as  to  attempt  consolation. 


358  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

He  left  the  room,  hoping  to  soften  her  before  Be- 
atrice came  down. 

The  morning  dragged  wearily,  but  at  last  the 
luncheon-gong  sounded,  and  Lionel  went  to  the  din- 
ing-room. Winifred  joined  him  at  the  meal,  but 
neither  had  much  to  say.  Lionel,  though  under- 
standing her  resentment,  could  not  excuse  it,  and 
his  attitude  in  consequence  was  chilly.  Winifred, 
reading  his  condemnation,  made  no  effort  further 
to  justify  herself,  and  both  were  glad  when  the 
meal  came  to  an  end.  Before  leaving  the  room  she 
said,  "  If  you  prefer  to  see  my  sister  in  the  house, 
the  library  will  be  at  your  disposal." 

"  I  prefer  the  garden,"  he  replied  stiffly,  and  he 
thought  he  caught  a  smile. 

"Suppose  it  rains?" 

"There  is  The  Happy  Heart." 

"  But  your  promise  still  holds,"  she  reminded 
him. 

"  If  Miss  Blair  prefers  the  inn,"  said  Lionel  with 
polite  determination,  "  we  go  there.  That,  of 
course,  will  cancel  the  promise,  and  you  will  not 
see  me  again.  In  case  she  does,"  he  added  more 
softly,  "  I  had  better  say  good-by  now.  Thank 
you  for  many  kindnesses." 


CERTAINTY  —  AHA !  359 

"  There  is  nothing  to  thank  me  for,"  she  replied, 
looking  confused. 

"  There  is.  And  I  wish  you  would  give  me  one 
thing  more  for  which  to  thank  you,"  said  Lionel, 
taking  her  hand.  Her  eyes  dropped.  She  blushed, 
but  did  not  free  herself. 

"And  that  is ?"  she  murmured. 

"  It  would  be  a  great  happiness  to  see  you  and 
your  sister  reconciled." 

She  wrenched  her  hand  away. 

"  Do  not  ask  me  that  again,"  she  replied,  seem- 
ing both  disappointed  and  pettish.  "  I  have  given 
you  my  answer  already.  Now,  please,  will  you  be 
kind  enough  to  tell  the  prisoner  I  wish  to  see  him. 
He  can  stop  work  and  change.  I  will  wait  for 
him  in  my  sitting-room  up-stairs." 

Lionel  went  in  search  of  Tony.  He  found  the 
latter  pocketing  his  pipe,  preparatory  to  a  fresh 
attack  upon  the  mound  of  earth.  "  Miss  Arkwright 
says  you  can  stop,"  said  Lionel  genially.  "  You 
may  go  and  get  clean;  she  wishes  to  see  you." 

"What  about  my  work?"  objected  Tony. 
"  You  know,  old  friend  —  forgive  me,  but  I  seem 
to  have  known  you  for  years  —  I  am  making  quite 
a  good  job  of  that  bed.  Exegi  monumentum  are 


360  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

per  ennuis !  What?  That's  about  all  I  have  left 
of  a  thousand-pound  education.  What  I  mean  to 
say  is  that  future  generations  may  come  and  look 
at  my  flower  bed  as  being  the  beau-ideal  —  the 
standard  —  the  Super-bed,  and  so  forth.  Honestly, 
I'm  beginning  to  be  quite  proud  of  the  little  chap 
—  it's  a  most  promising  child.  I  say,  between  old 
schoolmates  and  that  sort  of  jolly  palaver,  what  does 
she  want  me  for?  " 

"  Haven't  a  notion,  friend  of  my  youth,"  said 
Lionel  sympathetically.  Knowing  nothing  of  Tony, 
he  felt  nevertheless  an  attraction  and  a  mutual  bond. 
"  You'd  better  do  as  she  tells  you." 

The  bed-builder  arose. 

"  Of  course.  I  say,  do  you  think  she'll  let  me 
stay  here  for  a  bit  longer?  What  I  mean  is,  has 
she  any  intention  of  carting  me  at  once? " 

"  I  haven't  a  notion." 

"  You  see  ...  here's  the  bed  .  .  .  some  one 
must  finish  it.  I  should  hate  to  think  of  another 
artist  putting  in  his  oar.  The  bed,  in  short,  wor- 
ries me." 

"  Ask  her  to  take  you  on  as  gardener,"  suggested 
Lionel,  smiling  at  the  absurd  creature. 

"  I  wonder  ..."  Tony  moved  off  with  drag- 
ging dissatisfied  steps.  After  progressing  a  few 


CERTAINTY  —  AHA !  361 

yards  he  turned.  There  was  hesitation  in  his  voice 
and  manner. 

"I  —  I  say,  oh,  companion  of  my  infancy,  I 
wonder  if  you'd  mind  me  asking  you  a  question? 
Of  course,  we've  not  been  introduced  and  all  that, 
and  I  hope  you'll  not  regard  it  as  a  liberty,  faux 
pas,  double  entendre,  or  what-not.  But  do  you  mind 
telling  me  if  you're  engaged  to  her?  " 

"  Lord,  no ! "  said  Lionel,  mightily  surprised. 
"  Not  the  least  intention  of  trying.  If  that's  all 
your  trouble,  go  in  and  win.  And  good  luck  to 
you!" 

"  I  say,"  observed  Tony  with  a  most  engaging 
smile,  "  you're  a  blind  ass,  old  yoke  fellow  of  my 
youth;  but  you're  no  end  of  a  sportsman.  One 
more  queston  —  I  promise  that  I'm  quite  a  decent 
chap,  though  appearances  are  against  me  —  is  she 
engaged  to  any  one  else?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of." 

"  The  planet  Jupiter  is  in  conjunction  with  Sat- 
urn, or  words  to  that  effect.  Whatever  the  stars 
are,  I  seem  to  be  in  luck.  Oh,  of  course  she 
mayn't  look  at  me,  I  know.  We  must  give  her  time 
to  appreciate  my  many  excellences  —  not  dream  of 
rushing  things.  But  she  has  made  my  few  days' 
stay  so  pleasant,  that  common  gratitude " 


362  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  No:  don't  spoil  it!  "  said  Lionel,  reading  some- 
thing beneath  Tony's  idle  chatter ;  "  you  don't  mean 
that."  Tony  looked  at  him  and  changed  his  tone. 

"  What  I  do  mean,"  he  said  sincerely,  "  is  that 
she's  a  perfectly  top-hole  creature.  She's  taught 
me  a  few  things  —  not  excluding  work,  in  which 
she  must  share  the  credit  with  others  —  during  the 
last  few  days.  I  want  to  extend  the  lessons. 
Well,  I  think  a  little  soap  and  water  might  be 
rather  a  promising  start.  Where  am  I  to  see  her? 
Up-stairs?" 

He  strolled  off  whistling  cheerfully,  bearing  Li- 
onel's good  wishes.  The  latter  was  in  a  good  humor 
with  all  the  world  to-day:  he  felt  like  giving  a 
sovereign  to  every  child,  and  a  five-pound  note  to 
every  grown-up.  "If  ever  I  make  a  hit  with  my 
plays,"  he  thought,  "  I'll  give  the  vicar  a  peal  of 
bells  and  Mrs.  Peters  —  what  on  earth  could  I  give 
to  Mrs.  Peters?  I  suppose  a  calf-bound  set  of  her 
husband's  sermons  would  be  the  most  acceptable 
souvenir,  unless  she's  human  enough  to  enjoy  di- 
amonds. Yes,  I  think  it  might  be  diamonds."  He 
smiled  at  his  happy  visions,  and  walked  back  to  the 
hammock-chair  to  wait  till  Beatrice  should  appear. 

He  did  not  know,  of  course,  whether  she  was 
coming  by  rail  or  motor,  and  therefore  did  not 


CERTAINTY  —  AHA !  363 

trouble  to  look  out  possible  trains.  He  was  quite 
content  to  wait  patiently  for  her  in  that  delightful 
garden,  knowing  now  that  he  loved  her,  and  hoping 
she  might  love,  or  learn  to  love  him.  But  though 
he  was  content  and  patient,  he  could  not  distract 
himself,  or  spend  the  lagging  hours  with  books  or 
newspapers.  He  tried,  indeed,  but  failed.  After 
reading  a  few  lines  he  found  his  attention  wander- 
ing: he  could  not  compel  his  brain  to  follow  the 
paltry  adventures  of  Mudie's  heroines,  or  the  stu- 
pendous feats  chronicled  in  the  daily  press.  In- 
stead, his  thoughts  flew  back  to  that  lucky  rescue  in 
the  Strand,  to  the  wondrous  hours  with  Beatrice  in 
the  theater  or  in  the  Bloomsbury  flat,  to  the  mad 
adventure  of  the  magnanimous  churchwarden,  to 
the  thousand  incidents  of  the  past  adventurous 
month.  He  could  not  read,  but  tobacco  was  no 
hindrance  to  the  brave  play  of  memory  and  imagi- 
nation, and  with  a  luxurious  smile  he  lighted  a 
pipe  and  drowsed.  Presently,  between  the  nicotian 
clouds,  he  thought,  "  I  must  make  Winifred  be 
friends.  What  scheme  shall  I  try?  Winifred  is 
a  dear,  too,  though  she  has  a  woman's  resentment. 
What  can  I  do  to  make  them  all  happy  —  to  make 
every  one  happy?  Winifred  .  .  .  Beatrice  .  .  ." 
The  besotted  lover,  overcome  with  his  soul's  re- 


364  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

action,  the  June  sun  and  a  crowded  morning,  fell 
asleep.  .  .  . 

He  was  roused  by  a  touch  upon  the  shoulder. 
He  awoke  and  blinked  lazily  toward  heaven.  Be- 
side him  stood  an  angel  in  a  lavender  linen  frock, 
and  a  lavender  hat  with  a  daring  touch  of  black, 
carrying  a  lavender  parasol  with  a  white  handle. 
It  was  Beatrice  at  last! 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   GOD   OF   THE   MACHINE 

LIONEL  stared  dumbly  for  a  moment,  not  com- 
pletely realizing  what  had  happened.    Then  he 
jumped  up  with  a  wry  smile.     "  You  must  think 
me  a  poor  watcher,"  he  said,  inwardly  cursing  his 
sleepiness.     "  I  was  so  busy  waiting  and  thinking  of 
you  that  I  suppose  I  must  have  —  I  imagine  I  have 
—  that  is,  I  fell  asleep.     Did  you  come  by  train?" 
"  Yes,"  she  said.     It  would  be  idle  to  say  "  in 
the  well-remembered  tones."     Her  voice  was  identi- 
cal with  Winifred's:  her  appearance,  gesture,  car- 
riage—  all  were  Winifred's;  but  the  telepathy  of 
love  told  Lionel  the  myriad  differences  between  the 
sisters,  differences  impalpable,  impossible  to  define 
or  even  hint  at,  but  differences  that  were  real,  if 
psychological.     "  I   came  by  the   four-thirty,   and 
walked  from  the  station." 
"  Then  —  good  heavens !  what  time  is  it?  " 
"  Six  o'clock,"  she  said  with  a  smile.     "  How; 
long  have  you  been  asleep  ?  " 

365 


366  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  It  must  be  at  least  three  hours,"  said  Lionel 
in  rueful  amazement.  "  Fancy  wasting  three  hours 
of  a  day  like  this  in  sleep!  But  don't  let  us  waste 
any  more.  Tell  me  all  about  yourself,  your  plans, 
everything.  You  are  well  ?  "  he  added  anxiously, 
though  the  question  was  needless. 

"Perfectly.     And  you?" 

"  Quite  fit,  thanks."  And  a  silence  fell  between 
them.  It  seemed  odd  that  there  should  be  a  silence, 
for  so  much  had  happened  since  they  last  met.  Li- 
onel had  been  living  in  a  penny  novelette,  and  her 
fate  could  not  have  been  much  more  fortunate.  Yet 
now  they  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  say  beyond  the 
commonplaces  of  friendly  acquaintanceship.  It  was 
Lionel  who  broke  the  silence. 

"  You  must  let  me  say  that  .  .  ."  He  stopped. 
He  could  not  honestly  say  he  was  sorry  for  the 
death  of  Lukos,  so  he  changed  the  form  of  his 
statement :  " —  that  I  am  sorry  for  your  trouble. 
You  know  it  already,  but  I  should  like  to  tell  it 
you.  ...  I  suppose  it  must  be  true?" 

"  Thank  you,"  Beatrice  replied  evenly.  "  Yes,  I 
expect  it  is  true;  but,  as  I  wrote  to  you,  I  am  going 
to  make  sure." 

"Is  that  wise?" 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  I  mean  to  go." 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE       367 

Lionel  did  not  attempt  to  argue  with  her,  to 
reason  or  persuade.  The  finality  of  tone  and  his 
knowledge  of  the  woman  made  him  give  up  at 
once  any  thought  of  such  a  useless  effort.  "  But 
I  go  with  her,"  he  resolved,  "  either  as  husband  or 
servant.  And  if  she  won't  take  me,  I'll  go  on  my 
own  if  I  have  to  steal  a  ride  under  the  train! " 

"Did  you  call  at  the  house?"  he  asked. 

"  I  came  straight  across  here,  seeing  you  the  mo- 
ment I  entered  the  gate.  Perhaps  I  had  better  see 
my  sister  before  we  begin  to  talk.  Our  conversa- 
tion may  be  long." 

Lionel  moved  uneasily. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  he  began,  "  that  your  sister 
feels  anything  but  well-disposed  toward  you.  She 
resents  your  suspicion,  and  .  .  .  and  .  .  ."  he  stuck 
fast. 

"Refuses  to  see  me?"  she  suggested. 

He  nodded.  "  I  have  hopes  of  winning  her  over 
yet,  but  .  .  ." 

"  If  she  has  said  '  No  '  she  will  stick  to  it,"  said 
Beatrice,  digging  her  parasol  into  the  lawn. 
"  She  can  be  a  darling,  but  she  can  also  be  pig- 
headed. What  do  you  think  of  her?"  she  added 
quickly,  turning  upon  him. 

"  Charming,"  said  Lionel.     "  Except  for  this  un- 


368  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

fortunate  weakness.  And  there  is  some  excuse  even 
for  that." 

"  Do  you  consider  her  pretty  ?  "  It  sounded  an 
odd  question,  but  oddities  were  lost  on  him  now. 

"  Yes ;  very  pretty." 

"  As  pretty  as  I  ?  "  asked  Beatrice. 

"  Quite,"  he  laughed,  beginning  to  feel  more  at 
home,  "  but  in  a  different  way.  And  I  prefer  your 
way,"  he  added  with  sincerity. 

"  That  is  a  little  crude,"  she  smiled.  "  I  ex- 
pected a  more  delicate  compliment  from  a  man  of 
your  education.  Please  pay  me  one  at  once." 

To  be  asked  for  a  delicate  compliment  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice  must  be  much  the  same  as  if  the 
Punch  editor  were  asked  for  a  joke  instanter.  You 
can  imagine  Mr.  Seaman  being  introduced  with, 
"  This  is  Mr.  Seaman  —  Punch,  you  know." 
"How  charming!  Please,  Mr.  Seaman,  be  good 
enough  to  be  funny,"  and  the  resulting  debacle  of 
Mr.  Seaman.  Lionel  felt  empty  of  all  wit  and 
ideas.  He  simply  looked  at  her  and  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  sorry  .  .  .  you  have  silenced  me." 

She  smiled  provokingly.     "  Try !  " 

He  shook  his  head  again  with  a  sudden  sadness. 
As  he  observed  her,  devotedly  absorbing  every  de- 
tail of  her  dress,  her  charming  attitude,  her  delicate 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE      369 

color,  the  dainty  foot  in  the  lavender  stocking  and 
trim  black  shoe  pushed  seductively  forward,  the 
glorious  hair,  and  brilliance  of  her  eyes,  the  incar- 
nation of  youth  and  joy  (and  he  excused  her  that, 
remember,  for  the  compulsion  of  her  marriage),  he 
groaningly  realized  that  his  late  logic  would  not 
hold.  He  loved  her  and  wanted  her :  he  knew  that 
he  would  not  be  mercenary  in  asking,  but  he  felt 
he  could  not  after  all.  To  think  of  asking  for  such 
a  lovely  creature,  without  a  penny  of  his  own  —  he 
could  not  do  it.  He  was  wrong,  he  told  himself,  and 
felt  that  his  ideals  were  true,  but  it  was  impossible. 
His  face  grew  grim  as  he  looked  at  her.  The  smile 
faded  from  her  lips. 

"What  is  it?"  she  said  softly.  "Is  anything 
the  matter,  my  .  .  .  friend?" 

He  was  near  the  breaking-point,  and  had  that 
moment  continued  he  might  have  told  her  all.  But 
an  interruption  —  a  twentieth-century  interruption 
—  saved  him. 

From  the  deeps  of  the  air  was  heard  a  dull  hum- 
ming. The  noise  increased  every  moment,  and 
Beatrice  looked  perplexedly  about  her.  "  Do  you 
hear  it,"  she  asked,  "that  curious  noise?  .  .  . 
Like  a  gigantic  bee  .  .  .  ." 

Lionel  had  heard  a  similar  noise  before  and  was 


370  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

not  perplexed.  "  It  must  be  an  aeroplane,"  he  said 
reassuringly :  "  it  sounds  as  if  it  were  quite  close. 
Perhaps  that  clump  of  trees  hides  its  approach." 

His  surmise  proved  correct,  for  in  a  brief  space 
the  machine  soared  into  view  like  some  beautiful 
bird.  "  There  it  is !  "  they  cried  together,  stand- 
ing like  two  delighted  children  watching  a  kindly 
rock  from  the  Arabian  Nights.  "  Why!  what  is  it 
going  to  do?"  continued  Beatrice,  speaking  as  if 
the  monoplane  were  a  living  creature.  "  See !  it 
has  changed  its  course  ...  it  is  circling  round  like 
a  bird  of  prey." 

"  It  looks  as  if  he  meant  to  land,"  said  Lionel, 
"  and  was  seeking  for  a  suitable  place.  Yes,  by 
jove!  he's  found  it.  Now  watch!  " 

The  air-man  had  shut  off  his  engine,  for  the  buzz- 
ing ceased,  and  he  came  down  to  earth,  with  a 
graceful  swoop  that  enchanted  Beatrice,  on  a  bit 
of  level  pasture  two  fields  away.  "Come  on!" 
cried  Beatrice  excitedly.  "Let's  go  and  have  a 
look!  I've  never  seen  an  aeroplane  close  to." 

Lionel  smiled  at  her  enthusiasm,  and  they  set  off 
at  a  brisk  pace.  Leaving  the  garden  by  the  little 
wicket  at  the  back,  they  crossed  the  tiny  stream,  dig- 
nified by  the  name  of  Shere,  and  walked  on,  chatting 
happily  till  they  were  close  upon  the  air-man.  They 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE      371 

could  see  him  walking  round  his  machine,  examin- 
ing it  with  a  parent's  care,  pulling  here,  patting  there, 
testing  the  tension  of  a  wire,  inspecting  the  engine. 
Suddenly  Beatrice  stopped  short.  "  Bother !  "  she 
said  impatiently.  "  I've  left  my  hanky  in  the  gar- 
den. I  wonder  if  you'd  mind ' 

"  Of  course,"  said  Lionel,  glad,  you  may  be  sure, 
of  the  lightest  service.  "  You  go  on  and  learn  to 
fly.  I'll  join  you  in  five  minutes." 

He  left  Beatrice  and  ran  back  to  the  garden. 
But  in  spite  of  the  most  careful  search  he  could 
not  see  any  trace  of  the  handkerchief.  He  searched 
the  lawn,  the  chairs,  the  drive,  but  no  handkerchief 
was  visible.  "  She  must  have  lost  it  in  the  train," 
he  thought,  "  or  dropped  it  on  the  road.  Well, 
that's  soon  remedied." 

Going  into  the  house,  he  rang  the  dining-room 
bell.  It  was  answered  by  Forbes.  "  Get  me  a  clean 
handkerchief,  please,"  said  Lionel.  To  his  utter 
amazement  Forbes  said  "  Yes,  sir,"  and  prepared  to 
leave  the  room. 

"  Hi !  "  said  Lionel,  and  Forbes  stopped,  flush- 
ing a  dull  red.  Lionel  pulled  himself  together  with 
an  effort.  "  Excuse  me,  Forbes,"  said  he,  striving 
to  speak  calmly :  "  I  understood  you  were  dumb. 
Has  the  age  of  miracles  revived,  or  what?  " 


372  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Forbes  bowed  discreetly. 

"  Our  local  doctor  is  a  very  clever  surgeon,  sir," 
he  replied  blandly.  "  I  think  you  said  a  handker- 
chief, sir?" 

He  disappeared.  .  .  . 

"  Cleverness,  Forbes,"  said  Lionel  when  the  foot- 
man returned,  "  is  not  confined  to  doctors.  I  con- 
gratulate you  ...  on  the  recovery  of  speech." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Forbes  with  a  well-bred 
humility.  "  I  find  it  a  great  blessing,  I  own.  It 
opens  out  a  new  world." 

He  held  the  door,  and  Lionel  passed  out,  his  brain 
sagging  heavily.  A  few  minutes  later  he  rejoined 
Beatrice,  who  had  more  surprises  in  store.  She 
was  chatting  merrily  with  the  air-man  as  he  came 
up. 

"This  is  great  luck!"  she  said  cheerfully  to  the 
astonished  Lionel.  "  Here's  an  old  friend  of  mine 
dropped  from  the  skies  —  yes!  literally!  —  to  pay 
a  friendly  call.  Let  me  introduce  you:  Mr. 
Mortimer  —  Mr.  Ashford  Billing,  my  late  man- 
ager." 

"Very  pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Billing,"  said 
Lionel  mechanically.  "  I've  heard  your  name  be- 
fore." 

"And  I  yours,  Mr.  Mortimer,"  replied  Billing 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE       373 

with  genuine  heartiness.  "  It's  a  real  pleasure  to 
meet  a  man  who  can  write  like  you." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Lionel.  "  How  can 
you  know  anything  of  my  work?  It's  not  at- 
tracted much  notice  yet." 

Billing  laughed. 

"  Shall  I  tell  him  ? "  he  asked,  turning  to  the 
lady. 

"Bags  I!"  said  Beatrice,  laughing:  "that  must 
be  my  royalty,  or  commission,  if  you  prefer  it. 
First  of  all,  let  me  explain  his  presence.  He  called 
on  me  this  afternoon  and  found  that  I  was 
out " 

"As  usual,"  interrupted  Billing. 

"  And  learned  where  I  had  gone  from  my  serv- 
ant. Then,  being  in  a  hurry ' 

"  Wanted  to  try  to  persuade  her  to  sign  a  new 
contract,"  said  the  irrepressible  Billing,  "  but  she 
won't.  Perhaps  you  can  make  her  realize,  Mr. 
Mortimer,  that  if  she  retires  the  stage  will  lose 
one  of  its  brightest  jewels." 

"  Oh,  keep  that  for  the  publicity  agent ! "  she 
begged.  "  I've  told  you  I  mean  to  retire,  and  that's 
final.  I  want  to  tell  the  news.  Well,  Mr.  Morti- 
mer, the  impetuous  man  couldn't  wait,  so  he  went 
down  to  Brooklands  and  flew  here " 


374  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Quicker  than  the  train,"  smiled  Billing. 
"  American  hustle  and  all  that " 

"  And  now  he  tells  me  —  as  a  casual  item  of  in- 
formation—  that  he's  going  to  produce  your  play." 

"What!"  said  Lionel. 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  yes !  Isn't  it  splendid  ?  Now, 
Ashford,  you  can  tell  the  rest." 

"Guess  there  isn't  much  left  to  tell,"  said  Bill- 
ing, still  smiling.  "  Well,  sir,  Miss  Blair  told  me 
about  your  play  a  month  ago  now.  My  reader 
reported  favorably  on  it,  and  I  read  it  myself.  I 
think  it  will  go,  Mr.  Mortimer,  if  I'm  any  judge; 
and  when  you  get  back  to  London  we  can  fix  up 
the  contract.  I  hope  it  will  mean  something  hot 
for  both  of  us." 

Lionel  turned,  incapable  of  speech,  to  Beatrice. 
He  thanked  her  with  his  eyes,  but  more  than  thanks 
lay  in  them,  and  Billing  noticed  the  mutual  look 
with  an  inward  groan.  There  was  silence  for  a 
moment.  Then  Billing  squared  his  shoulders,  and 
in  a  matter-of-fact  voice  said,  "  Well,  I  calculate 
I  must  be  getting  home." 

Beatrice  protested.  There  was  not  the  least 
hurry.  There  was  no  sense  in  this  flying  over  to 
see  them  and  only  staying  for  ten  minutes.  He 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE       375 

must  stop  and  have  dinner:  why  not  sleep?  .  .  . 

"  You  forget  I  don't  know  your  sister,"  he  re- 
plied with  a  peculiar  smile.  Beatrice  blushed.  Li- 
onel did  not  notice  the  blush.  He  was  too  busy 
thinking  of  the  new  vistas  that  opened  before  him 
even  to  hear  what  they  were  saying.  He  despised 
the  flying  man,  for  did  not  he,  Lionel,  tread  upon 
the  air? 

"  I'll  arrange  that  somehow,"  said  Beatrice 
quickly.  "  Ash  ford,  you  really  must  stop.  I  want 
to  talk  to  you." 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said  with  a  queer  smile  that 
was  not  of  joy,  "  but  I  guess  I  know  better  than 
that."  His  voice  sank.  "My  dear,  I  wish  you 
luck!" 

"Oh,  Ashford,  dear!"  she  whispered,  "I'm  so 
sorry  .  .  .  I'm  so  sorry.  .  .  ." 

"  That's  all  right,"  he  said  more  cheerfully. 
"  Now,  I'm  really  going,  never  to  worry  you  again. 
Hello!  what's  this?" 

His  exclamation  of  surprise  caused  them  to  turn 
and  look  toward  The  Quiet  House. 

From  the  wicket-gate  had  issued  the  figure  of  a 
man  running.  He  wore  no  hat,  and  though  ap- 
parently elderly,  was  progressing  at  a  very  fair  rate 


376  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

of  speed.  But  he  had  not  run  more  than  twenty 
yards  before  another  man  came  bursting  from  the 
gate. 

"  Why,  it's  the  prisoner !  "  gasped  Lionel,  "  and 
good  heavens!  —  yes!"  He  turned  swiftly  to  Be- 
atrice. "  It's  the  churchwarden !  What  on  earth 
is  he  doing  here?" 

"  So  it  is,"  replied  Beatrice  without  emotion.  He 
wondered  at  her  self-control.  "  They  seem  to  be 
in  a  hurry." 

Robert  was  evidently  in  a  very  great  hurry,  but 
Tony  had  the  advantage  in  years  and  sprightliness. 
He  caught  his  quarry  in  a  very  short  space,  and 
seized  him  by  the  shoulder.  Then  the  pair  of  them 
stopped,  Robert  obviously  unwilling,  and  began  to 
talk  with  much  gesticulation  on  both  sides.  The 
onlookers  of  course  could  hear  nothing  of  what 
was  said,  but  from  the  pantomime  Tony  appeared 
to  be  expostulating,  advising,  entreating.  Mr.  Hed- 
derwick  seemed  to  be  in  a  condition  of  irate  panic. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  Tony  was  remonstrating  with 
his  comrade-in-arms  for  his  cowardice,  and  urg- 
ing him,  for  the  sake  of  himself  and  the  sex,  to 
make  a  stand  for  the  rights  of  man.  "If  you  give 
in  now,  after  your  many  heroisms  with  me,"  said 
Tony  warmly,  "  I  shall  be  ashamed  of  my  pupil 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE       377 

and  disown  him.  Come!  though  you  have  run,  it's 
not  too  late  for  a  recovery." 

"  You  don't  know  my  wife !  "  panted  Robert. 

"I  do  —  I've  spoken  to  her  for  three  minutes, 
and  I  can  guess  what  she's  like.  I  know  something 
about  women,  and  I  feel  sure  that  if  you  stand  up 
to  her  now  you'll  be  boss  in  your  house  for  good. 
If  not,  she  will.  It's  now  or  never." 

"You  —  you're  not  joking,  Mr.  Wild?"  said 
Robert  piteously. 

"  I'm  really  serious.  Now,  come  along  with  me 
and  talk  to  these  people.  We'll  let  your  wife  catch 
us  here.  An  audience  ought  to  give  you  courage. 
Mind !  "  he  added,  holding  Robert  by  the  arm  as 
they  began  to  walk  toward  the  aeroplane,  "  there 
must  be  no  weakening,  however  terrible  she  may 
appear.  Be  a  man,  and  you'll  triumph ! " 

It  was  all  very  well  to  urge  him  to  be  a  man, 
but  Mr.  Hedderwick  had  been  through  a  very  tense 
six  hours.  When  he  escaped  from  the  vicarage  he 
rushed  straight  for  The  Happy  Heart.  There  he 
instructed  Mr.  Glew  in  a  sentence  of  some  five  hun- 
dred words,  without  so  much  as  a  comma  interven- 
ing, that  he  meant  to  retire  to  his  room  at  once, 
that  he  was  to  be  denied  to  all  callers,  that  casual 
inquirers  were  to  be  told  that  he  had  gone  to  the 


378  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

station,  that  on  no  account  must  any  one  be  al- 
lowed to  come  up-stairs,  and  that  information  was 
to  be  given  when  the  coast  was  clear.  "  I'll  explainit- 
alllaterglewwhenihavetimebutrememberthatit'safiver- 
inyourpocketiflcomethroughto-daysafe,"  he  bab- 
bled, dashing  furiously  up-stairs.  "  Right,  sir,"  re- 
sponded Glew,  a  creature  to  whom  the  word  "  fiver  " 
was  all  that  was  necessary  by  way  of  present  ex- 
planation. Robert's  bedroom  door  slammed  and 
was  locked  behind  him  long  before  the  "  Right,  sir  " 
had  died  away. 

The  visit  of  Mrs.  Hedderwick  and  the  vicar's 
wife  made  matters  fairly  clear  to  the  landlord;  but, 
true  to  his  salt  and  interest,  he  persisted  in  the 
tale  that  Robert  had  gone  to  the  station.  His  story 
was  disbelieved.  This  was  not  to  be  wondered  at, 
considering  the  paucity  of  his  inventive  powers  and 
imagination;  for  Glew  did  not  adduce  a  particle  of 
corroborative  detail  to  support  his  statement.  The 
ladies  simply  declined  to  give  him  credence,  and  de- 
manded to  be  shown  Mr.  "  Bangs' '  bedroom. 
Foiled  in  this  amiable  purpose,  the  determined  pair 
announced  their  intentions  of  waiting  in  the  par- 
lor till  the  victim  appeared.  The  landlord's  re- 
newed protests  and  offers  of  affidavits  had  no  weight 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE       379 

with  them,  and  they  sat  down  with  an  awful  dig- 
nity. 

At  two  o'clock  Mrs.  Peters'  weariness  conquered 
her  curiosity,  and  she  went  home,  offering  un- 
bounded sympathy  and  a  bed  for  the  night.  The 
sympathy  was  accepted,  the  bed  declined,  Mrs.  Hed- 
derwick  declaring  she  would  remain  at  the  inn,  if 
necessary  sitting  up  in  a  chair  till  morning. 

Glew  had  no  wish  for  this,  and  cast  about  him 
for  means  of  getting  rid  of  the  undesired  guest. 
At  six  o'clock  he  sent  his  hopeful  son  up-stairs,  him- 
self keeping  guard  over  the  parlor  from  the  bar  op- 
posite. Young  Glew  found  Robert  desperate:  he 
had  not  thought  his  wife  capable  of  such  obsti- 
nacy. 

"  Dad  says,"  began  the  interested  youngster, 
"  that  he'll  go  in  and  talk  to  the  lady  —  keep  her 
occupied  like  —  if  you'd  care  to  risk  it  and  slip  out." 

"  I  will !  "  said  Robert  on  the  instant.  Anything 
was  better  than  this  terrible  suspense.  "  Let  me 
see  .  .  .  there's  a  train  in  half  an  hour  or  so  ... 
I'll  go  to  the  station.  No!  I  won't!  Wait  a 
minute ! " 

He  changed  his  resolve,  partly  from  quixotic, 
partly  from  selfish  reasons.  He  did  not  like  to 


38o  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

leave  Tony  to  an  unknown,  unguessed-at  fate;  and 
he  also  felt  very  strongly  that  he  would  like  that 
judicious  schemer's  advice  on  his  next  steps.  He 
resolved  to  risk  all  and  boldly  apply  for  admittance 
to  The  Quiet  House.  If  matters  there  were  really 
serious  .  .  .  well,  at  all  events  they  could  not  be 
much  more  serious  to  him  than  the  present  impasse. 
"  I'll  do  it ! "  he  declared  with  a  sudden  resolution. 
"  Boy !  when  you  get  your  father  alone,  tell  him  I've 
gone  up  to  The  Quiet  House.  I'll  write  to  him 
from  there.  Now  go  down  and  ask  him  to  talk  to 
my  —  to  the  lady.  Beg  him  to  stand  in  the  door- 
way and  fill  it  up.  I'll  creep  quietly  past  in  ten 
minutes'  time." 

The  boy  obeyed,  and  after  ten  palpitating  min- 
utes Robert  stole  cautiously  down-stairs.  True  to 
his  promise,  the  landlord's  bulky  figure  blocked  the 
parlor  door,  his  voice  raised  in  mournful  reitera- 
tion and  appeal.  Robert  reached  the  fifth  step  from 
the  bottom  without  making  the  slightest  noise. 
But  the  stair-rod  of  the  fifth  step  had  worked  loose: 
the  carpet  slipped,  and  he  tumbled  down  with  con- 
siderable uproar.  Luckily  he  was  unhurt  by  the 
fall ;  but  the  landlord's  sharp  turn  of  the  head  and 
expression  of  dismayed  surprise,  coupled  with  the 
din,  roused  Mrs.  Hedderwick's  suspicion.  "  What 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE       381 

is  that?  "  she  demanded  querulously,  trying  to  push 
past  the  landlord.  At  the  terrific  tones  Robert 
jumped  up  and  took  to  his  heels. 

His  wife  had  common  sense  and  did  not  attempt 
to  follow,  knowing  she  could  not  hope  to  catch  the 
fugitive.  She  knew,  too,  that  Glew  was  incor- 
ruptible. But  as  the  landlord  walked  out  to  block 
the  passage  and  observe  the  escape  with  a  sympa- 
thetic eye,  she  turned  to  Master  Glew  and  said  de- 
cisively, "  Here  is  half-a-crown  if  you  can  tell  me 
where  he  has  gone." 

"  Quiet  House,"  said  the  guileless  lad  without 
hesitation,  and  pocketed  the  coin.  Mrs.  Hedder- 
wick  left  the  inn  at  once. 

After  inquiry  from  a  passer-by  she  reached  her 
destination,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  behind  the  peccant 
Hedderwick.  She  walked  up  the  drive,  and  beheld 
the  unsuspecting  Robert  pouring  out  his  grief  to 
Tony.  They  were  sitting  in  the  hammock-chairs. 

Robert  gave  a  cry  and  fled  once  more.  Tony 
courteously  waited  and  implored  Mrs.  Hedderwick 
to  sit  down  and  rest.  "  There  is  a  misunderstand- 
ing," he  said  urbanely;  "it  shall  be  my  pleasure  to 
set  it  right."  Filled  with  shame  of  his  sex,  deter- 
mined to  vindicate  Robert's  manhood  and  obtain  for 
him  a  peaceful  mastership,  he  ran  after  him,  catch- 


382  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ing  him  outside  the  grounds  as  has  already  been 
described. 

Mrs.  Hedderwick,  however,  was  not  content  to 
wait.  She  did  not  run  —  no !  no !  perish  so  undig- 
nified a  thought:  but  she  proceeded  very  swiftly 
indeed  in  the  wake  of  Tony.  "  A  smooth-spoken 
hypocrite!"  she  thought  ungratefully,  remembering 
Mrs.  Peter's  description  of  Robert's  accomplice  dur- 
ing their  mutual  vigil.  "  If  I  only  get  a  chance  I'll 
give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind,  too ! "  She  ran  —  I 
apologize:  she  proceeded  very  swiftly  —  through  the 
garden,  and  presently  saw  Tony  disappear  in  the 
distance  through  a  wicket-gate.  At  a  convenient 
interval  of  time  she  followed.  In  front  of  her,  a 
field  ahead,  she  saw  Tony  and  her  husband  stand- 
ing still,  their  arms  waving  furiously.  In  a  moment 
they  began  to  walk  on  again,  toward  a  little  group 
which  she  now  observed  for  the  first  time.  Mrs. 
Hedderwick  slackened  her  pace,  not  because  her 
desire  of  vengeance  was  cooling,  but  because  she  did 
not  wish  to  appear  in  a  panting  state.  She  saw  the 
two  men  come  to  the  group,  and  some  handshaking 
followed.  "  The  wretch !  "  she  thought.  "  Some 
of  his  wicked  friends,  I  suppose ! "  A  few  mo- 
ments later  she  joined  them.  They  looked  at  her 
with  interest,  and  she  returned  the  gaze  unflinch- 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE       383 

ingly  —  an  iron  woman.  Beatrice  came  forward. 
"  Mrs.  Hedderwick,  I  think  we  have  met  before." 

It  must  be  admitted  that  Mrs.  Hedderwick  be- 
haved well.  There  was  every  excuse  for  a  scene, 
and  no  possible  excuse  (unless  one  know  his  dull 
life)  for  Robert.  Mrs.  Hedderwick  merely  looked 
coldly  at  Beatrice  and  said,  "  We  have,  but  I  pre- 
fer not  to  remember  it."  Then  she  turned  to  her 
husband,  "  Come,  Robert !  " 

Mr.  Hedderwick  was  pale,  but  determined. 
Tony's  reassuring  and  stimulating  words,  together 
with  a  short  breathing-space,  had  put  courage  into 
him.  Besides,  during  the  last  minute  he  had  con- 
ceived an  idea.  So,  though  he  trembled  internally, 
his  voice  was  calm  enough  as  he  replied,  "  Alicia, 
I  am  not  coming  just  yet." 

Tony  took  Beatrice  by  the  arm.  "  This  isn't 
our  scene,"  he  whispered.  She  obeyed  the  hint; 
and  she,  Lionel,  Tony  and  Billing  retired  a  few 
yards  to  the  aeroplane,  out  of  ear-shot.  "  Is  it 
fair  to  leave  him?"  asked  Beatrice;  "he  looked 
very  frightened,  poor  little  man ! " 

"  Yes  —  yes !  "  said  Tony  decidedly ;  "  he  must 
do  this  on  his  own  —  sink  or  swim.  I  think  he'll 
be  all  right,  now  that  I've  stiffened  him.  Let  him 
alone." 


384  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

Mrs.  Hedderwick  appreciated  the  withdrawal,  but 
it  did  not  soften  her  mood.  "  What  do  you  mean, 
Robert  ?  "  she  said  coldly.  "  You  are  my  husband, 
though  you  did  desert  me  cruelly.  You  must 
come." 

"  I  come  on  conditions,"  said  Robert  stoutly, 
though  his  knees  were  quaking.  "  I  mean  to  be 
master  of  the  house  in  future  —  to  do  exactly  what 
I  like  and  when  I  like  —  to  go  to  Brighton,  if  I 
choose " 

"  Don't  be  absurd,"  said  Mrs.  Hedderwick. 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,"  he  reiterated.  "  I'm  — 
I'm  still  very  fond  of  you,  Alicia,  but  I  must  be 
master " 

"  Don't  be  absurd,"  said  Mrs.  Hedderwick,  still 
unmoved.  "  You  will  come  home  with  me  to- 
night." 

She  advanced  and  took  his  arm  in  a  wifely  grasp. 
Robert,  feeling  the  chains  imminent,  resolved  to 
play  his  last  card.  It  was  his  sole  remaining  hope 
of  freedom.  Bruskly  he  freed  his  arm.  Then  with 
incredible  agility  he  ran  to  the  aeroplane  and 
scrambled  into  the  pilot's  seat.  "  Now,  then !  "  he 
said  grimly ;  "  you  admit  that  I  am  to  be  head,  and 
I'll  come  down.  Otherwise  I'll  start  this  infernal 
machine.  I  don't  much  care  what  happens." 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  MACHINE       385 

"  Robert!  "  screamed  his  wife,  shaken  out  of  her 
composure.  "  Oh,  Robert !  come  down !  " 

"  Not  till  you  promise !  "  he  said,  fumbling  at  un- 
accustomed levers.  "  Here,  sir !  how  do  you  start 
it?" 

"You  fool!  "  shouted  Billing,  alarmed,  as  chance 
directed  Robert  to  the  object  of  his  search. 
"  Stand  clear !  "  he  screamed,  fearing  the  propeller 
would  start  and  hit  the  bystanders.  He  pulled  Be- 
atrice aside,  and  Tony  did  the  same  for  Mrs.  Hed- 
derwick.  "  Stop  it,  you  fool !  No !  —  the  other 
lever!  The  machine  will  be  up  in  a  minute." 

"  Promise !  "  screamed  Robert,  like  one  possessed. 
He  was  playing  for  life  now,  and  was  past  caring. 

"I  —  I  promise !  "  wailed  Mrs.  Hedderwick,  as 
the  propeller  began  to  move,  and  then  at  last  Rob- 
ert obeyed  the  frantic  instructions  of  Billing  and 
stopped  the  engine.  He  descended  with  all  the 
honors  of  war. 

"  You  will  excuse  us,"  he  said  with  a  pale  smile, 
taking  Mrs.  Hedderwick  by  the  arm.  "  We  are 
stopping  at  The  Happy  Heart  to-night.  Perhaps, 
to-morrow  .  .  ." 

He  retired  at  the  right  moment,  his  wife  beneath 
his  manly  protecting  arm.  "  There !  there ! "  he 
whispered  soothingly  as  they  walked  off;  "it's  all 


386  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

right  now,  my  love!    You  mustn't  be  frightened." 
"Oh,  Robert!"  said  Mrs.  Hedderwick.     "How 

could  you  —  how  could  you  do  it !     I  —  I  didn't 

know  you  had  it  in  you  I  " 

Robert  expanded  a  hero's  chest. 

"  My  dear,  love  is  proverbially  blind." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   USUAL  THING 

BEATRICE  and  the  three  men  watched  the  pass- 
ing of  the  Hedderwicks  in  amused  silence. 
When  they  had  disappeared  from  view  Billing  said, 
"  Well,  that's  done  .  .  .  and  now,  Miss  Blair,  I'm 
really  going." 

"  Me,  too,"  said  Tony  lightly.  "  I  mean  to  have 
a  shy  for  that  seven-thirty  train." 

"  Then  you're  determined?  "  said  Beatrice  to  both 
men.  Billing  nodded  with  a  smiling  melancholy. 
Tony  smiled  more  cheerfully.  Though  this  inter- 
view with  Miss  Arkwright  in  the  afternoon  had 
opened  his  eyes,  he  was  not  so  hard  hit  as  the  air- 
man: things  had  not  had  time  to  go  so  far. 

"  I'll  just  wait  and  see  the  machine  start,"  he 
said.  "  Then  ho !  for  the  station  and  prosaic  Lon- 
don once  more ! " 

"If  you  like,"  said  Billing,  "  I'll  take  you  back 
to  Brooklands  with  me.  This  is  a  two-seater. 
Unless  you've  a  bad  head  for  heights." 

"  I've  fallen  from  too  many  to  mind,"  said  Tony 
387 


THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

ruefully.  "  My  biggest  drop  occurred  this  after- 
noon. Thanks  very  much.  If  you'll  give  me  time 
to  collar  a  coat  and  a  rug,  I'm  your  man." 

He  ran  off,  leaving  them  chatting,  but  he  was 
back  in  a  very  short  time  bearing  the  necessary  ar- 
ticles. "  I  bagged  the  first  I  could  lay  hands  on," 
he  explained,  getting  into  the  overcoat.  "  I  hope 
Jiobody " 

"  Er  —  the  coat  happens  to  be  mine,"  said  Li- 
onel pointedly.  He  liked  Tony  very  well,  but 
could  hardly  stomach  so  unblushing  a  theft. 
"  Sorry,  old  chap,  but  I  may  want ' 

Tony  put  both  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  gazed 
deep  into  his  eyes. 

"  Little  man,"  he  said  calmly,  "  listen  to  your 
wise  old  uncle.  You  won't  want  it.  Take  it  from 
me  that  you  won't  want  it.  I'll  send  it  back  to- 
morrow. That  will  be  in  heaps  of  time." 

"  Time  for  what?"  said  the  puzzled  Lionel,  smil- 
ing out  of  sheer  sympathy  with  the  quizzical  glance. 
"  Oh,  well  —  take  it  and  be  hanged  to  you !  " 

"  Thanks,"  said  Tony.  Then  he  took  off  his  cap 
and  advanced  to  Beatrice.  "  Good-by ! "  he  said 
brightly.  "  Thanks  a  thousand  times.  I'll  send 
you  a  picture  post-card  announcing  my  safe  ar- 
rival." 


THE  USUAL  THING  389 

"  And  another  to  say  when  you've  started  work !  " 
said  Beatrice,  smiling  a  little  mistily.  "  Don't  for- 
get that !  " 

"  I  start  on  Monday,"  he  replied.  "  Don't  know 
what  it  will  be  yet  —  perhaps  aeroplanes,  perhaps 
politics,  possibly  poultry  farming.  But  it's  going 
to  materialize.  Good-by,  and  —  the  very  best !  " 

Billing,  who  had  said  good-by,  was  already  in 
the  pilot's  seat.  "  Come  on !  "  he  grunted  mourn- 
fully, knowing  he  was  bidding  farewell  to  hopes 
managerial  as  well  as  amatory.  Tony  climbed  up 
behind  him  and  tucked  the  rug  well  round.  "  Let 
her  go ! "  he  said  cheerfully.  In  obedience  to  the 
order  Lionel  gave  the  propeller  a  swing,  the  engine 
started,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  aeroplane  began 
to  run  swiftly  over  the  ground.  Beatrice  drew  close 
to  Lionel  and  put  her  arm  through  his.  It  seemed 
such  a  natural  thing  that  he  felt  no  surprise  what- 
ever, but  only  a  tumultuous  happiness.  Together 
they  stood  watching  the  machine  as  it  took  the  air 
and  soared  up  in  the  magic  of  mechanical  flight. 
They  waved  a  final  adieu,  and  Tony  flourished  his 
cap. 

"  What  would  you  say,"  shouted  Billing  when 
they  had  risen  a  hundred  feet,  "  if  I  let  her  drop 
suddenly  ?  " 


390  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  Shouldn't  have  cared  a  week  ago,"  shouted 
Tony  in  return ;  "  you  mustn't  now." 

Billing  grunted  unintelligibly  and  gave  his  un- 
divided attention  to  the  pilotage.  .  .  . 

On  the  dull  earth  below  Beatrice  and  Lionel  were 
walking  silently  toward  the  house.  They  were  still 
arm  in  arm,  but  no  word  was  spoken  till  they  had 
reached  the  shelter  of  the  garden.  Then  Lionel 
stopped  and  took  her  by  the  hands.  "  Ah,  Be- 
atrice! "  he  said. 

"  Not  yet !  Not  yet !  "  she  breathed,  holding  back 
and  inflaming  his  passion  the  more.  "  Wait  a  little ! 
You  mustn't  say  anything  yet!  Let  us  approach  it 
sensibly  and  in  a  rational  balanced  mood  if  we 
can."  She  broke  from  him  and  laughed  merrily. 
"  Let  us  go  in  and  have  dinner  first.  Afterward, 
we  can  talk  in  the  garden." 

"  Tell  me  one  thing/'  he  said  impetuously,  "  and 
I  will  be  patient.  Was  there  ever  a  Lukos  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  two  things,"  she  said,  laughing 
a  little  wildly.  "  You  ought  to  know  them  before 
you  speak.  With  them  you  must  be  content  for  an 
hour.  There  was  no  Lukos,  and  Miss  Arkwright 
and  I  are  the  same  creature." 

He  had  suspected  it  a  hundred  times,  and  a  hun- 
dred times  he  had  found  fresh  evidence  to  discredit 


THE  USUAL  THING  391 

the  suspicion.  He  knew  it  must  be  true,  though 
he  could  not  grasp  it  yet.  But  he  did  not  care. 
The  fact  that  he  had  been  hoodwinked  and  made  a 
plaything  did  not  trouble  him  in  the  least.  All  he 
was  conscious  of  was  that  she  was  free.  He 
laughed  quietly,  now  completely  master  of  himself. 

"  That  will  do  to  go  on  with,"  he  said ;  "  now 
let  us  be  sensible,  as  you  suggest,  and  have  dinner." 

The  meal  was  a  great  success,  despite  the  presence 
of  Forbes,  who  hovered  about  them  like  a  benig- 
nant and  sympathetic  butterfly.  Lionel  could 
hardly  help  smiling  at  him,  remembering  his  recent 
slip  and  the  sudden  recovery  of  speech.  Forbes 
seemed  entirely  unconscious,  handing  the  plates 
with  an  air  that  was  almost  fatherly;  and  Lionel 
regretted  the  obvious  necessity  of  his  dismissal  in 
the  roseate  and  fast-approaching  millennium.  He 
was  not  impatient  now,  perfectly  disposed  to  laugh, 
eat,  drink,  be  merry  and  take  a  fair  share  in  the 
conversation  that  sparkled  between  them.  It  was  a 
talk  as  of  old,  when  they  spoke  freely  and  lightly  of 
surface  themes  —  the  play,  the  latest  book,  the 
morning's  news  —  the  clash  of  wit  and  opinion 
sounding  bravely  through  the  room. 

They  smoked  a  cigarette  each  over  their  coffee, 
but  still  the  talk  was  of  mundane  matters,  though 


392  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

neither  was  ill  at  ease.  There  is  a  telepathy  of 
souls  that  can  send  true  messages  beneath  the  cover 
of  human  speech. 

At  last  Beatrice  said,  "  Let  us  go  into  the  garden," 
and  he  rose  briskly  at  the  command.  She  allowed 
him  to  help  her  with  her  cloak,  and  then  said,  laugh- 
ing :  "  But  Tony  has  your  coat !  What  will  you 
do?" 

"  I  shan't  need  one,"  he  replied.  "  It's  a  lovely 
night." 

"  You  will,"  she  insisted.  "  I  can't  have  you 
catching  cold.  I'll  tell  Forbes " 

"  No,  really,"  he  protested,  and  threw  open  the 
door.  "  See,  what  a  glorious  night  it  is !  There's 
not  the  least  need." 

She  did  not  press  the  point,  for  indeed  it  was  a 
night  for  lovers.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  wind 
in  the  air,  no  sound  of  the  works  of  man  to  mar 
the  stillness.  From  a  distant  field  came  the  dim 
wheezing  of  a  corn-crake;  nearer  at  hand  a  nightin- 
gale was  beginning  his  epithalamic  welcome.  A 
light  dew  was  falling,  but  nothing  to  hurt  a  lover 
and  his  lass,  full  of  health  and  joyousness.  The 
trees  did  not  even  sigh  a  greeting:  the  solemn  hush 
made  them  imagine  that  nature  herself  was  holding 


THE  USUAL  THING  393 

her  breath  in  friendly  expectation,  waiting  to  hear 
the  old  tale  in  the  newest  words,  ready  to  break  out 
into  a  chorus  of  free  congratulation.  Already  Li- 
onel could  hear  the  leaves  whispering  the  gay  tid- 
ings, every  blade  of  grass  passing  on  the  news,  the 
grasshoppers  and  glowworms  waking  their  more 
sleepy  fellows  to  tell  them  Beatrice  was  here  and 
had  said  she  loved  him,  the  birds  waiting  happily 
in  their  nests  till  the  first  kiss  sounded,  and  then 
tucking  in  their  heads  with  a  jolly  "  So  that's  all 
right  at  last !  "  He  wanted  to  say  "  Thank  you  " 
to  the  world  of  beasts  and  trees  and  flowers,  and 
presently  to  the  world  of  men  and  women. 

"Smoke,  do!"  said  Beatrice,  as  he  dragged  a 
couple  of  the  chairs  upon  the  gravel.  "  And  don't 
interrupt  more  than  you  can  help.  I'll  tell  you  the 
essential  facts  as  shortly  as  I  can.  Details  we  can 
talk  over  later  ...  if  there  is  to  be  a  Mater." 

He  lighted  a  cigarette  and  was  silent. 

"  Most  of  the  tale  I  told  you,"  she  began  abruptly, 
"  was  all  lies.  Some  was  true.  I  was,  for  in- 
stance, well-off  as  regards  money,  when  I  was  left 
an  orphan  at  sixteen.  I  was  brought  up  by  some 
hateful  relations  and  launched  two  years  later.  I 
got  sick  of  society  in  a  couple  of  years,  and  cut  it 


394  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

for  pleasanter  paths.  I  tried  painting,  but  it  bored 
me.  Then  the  stage  —  that  part  was  true  —  and 
made  a  success 

"  It  wasn't  enough.  I  wanted  more  interest, 
more  reality  in  life.  I  didn't  find  it  —  I  haven't 
quite  found  it  yet,  but  I  think  I'm  on  the  way  to 
it.  I  wanted  romance,  too.  I  also  wanted  fun. 
Oh,  yes!  I  wanted  a  lot,  there's  no  doubt  about 
that.  .  .  .  Presently  I  determined  I  wanted  a 
husband.  .  .  . 

"  Does  that  sound  odd  from  a  girl's  lips  ?  Well, 
it's  true,  and  I  don't  care  much  about  anything 
except  truth  just  now.  I  set  to  work  deliberately 
to  find  some  one  I  could  love  and  who  would  love 
me.  Are  you  shocked  ? "  she  asked  quickly. 

"  No,"  he  said  quietly,  flicking  the  ash  from  his 
cigarette.  "  Go  on." 

"  So  I  went  husband-hunting.  Not  much  need, 
you  may  say,  for  a  girl  on  the  stage  to  do  that 
Of  course  I  had  plenty  of  men  running  after  me  — • 
some  beasts,  some  good  sorts.  They  didn't  do.  I 
wanted  something  worth  loving;  a  man  who  was 
strong,  but  human;  a  man  with  a  sense  of  humor 
and  not  too  grown-up  for  romance  —  a  kind  of 
Admirable  Crichton,  in  fact.  I  didn't  find  him  — 
at  all  events,  not  at  first. 


THE  USUAL  THING  395 

"  This  Turkish  tale  I  made  up  for  two  reasons, 

—  one,  the  purely  irresponsible  childish  enjoyment 
of  a  fairy  tale  —  a  lark,  if  you  like!     Two,  for  a 
test.     If  my  projected  benedict  could  swallow  that 

—  believe  it,  if  possible,  but  at  all  events  not  refuse 
it  because  it  looked  so  silly  —  well,  he  would  do  on 
the  romantic  side.     But  he  had  to  be  a  man  and  a 
strong  man,  too;  hence  the  invention  of  Lukos  for 
a  further  test." 

"  A  pretty  hard  one,"  he  interposed. 

"  Pretty  hard,"  she  agreed,  "  but  I  meant  to  have 
the  best.  I  tried  the  tale  on  two  or  three  men  who 
seemed  good  sorts,  during  a  period  of  three  months 
or  so.  They  all  failed  for  .  .  .  one  reason  or 
another.  Then,  by  a  lucky  chance,  you  came  and 
succeeded.  That's  all." 

"And  Mizzi?" 

"  My  faithful  helper  and  plagiarist.  She  got  bit- 
ten with  the  romantic  notion  too,  and  set  her  lover 
a  somewhat  similar  task.  She  invented  the  bur- 
glary." 

"Tony  Wild?" 

"  Luck,"  she  confessed.  "  I  worked  the  broad 
outlines  of  the  scheme,  but  added  to  it  as  circum- 
stances helped.  The  ambassador  was  an  old  friend, 
and  I  used  his  presence  here  to  give  verisimilitude. 


396  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

He  didn't  know,  of  course,  and  the  day  he  caught 
you  here  I  was  afraid  my  schemes  would  be  blurted 
out  by  his  calling  me  '  Miss  Blair.'  Luck  helped 
me  there." 

"Hedderwick?" 

"  Sheer  madness.  I  wanted  a  new  adventure 
that  night,  and  risked  the  police  court  I  trusted 
to  my  wits  to  get  us  out  if  caught.  If  not,  well, 
'  the  papers  have  been  stolen ! ' 

"  The  dumb  servants  ?  " 

"The  gardener  really  is  dumb.  Forbes  I  gave 
five  pounds  a  week  to  sham,  for  safety's  sake.  I 
couldn't  risk  his  talking  in  the  village.  I've  only 
had  this  house  two  months  —  I  wanted  it  for  per- 
fect rest.  I  didn't  come  down  here  every  day  — 
just  when  the  mood  took  me.  I  used  to  motor  up 
to  London  at  night,  sometimes  sending  the  car  back 
empty  (Forbes  drove),  sometimes  coming  myself. 
When  you  were  here  I  used  to  leave  the  car  a  mile 
away  and  walk." 

"Alone!" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  smiled.  "  I  always  carried  the 
revolver  for  protection.  That  was  true  in  a  sense. 
I  was  never  interfered  with,  though  I  had  some 
trouble  at  times  dodging  Tony,  Brown  and  Mr. 
Hedderwick.  It  was  exciting  work." 


THE  USUAL  THING  397 

He  laughed,  at  her  courage  and  his  ignorance 
of  her.  She  laughed  gaily  in  return. 

"Is  that  enough?" 

"  Not  quite,"  he  demurred.  "  Why  were  you  so 
angry  with  Mizzi  that  night  you  caught  us?" 

She  blushed. 

"  Ah !  I  am  ashamed  to  tell  you  that.  One 
day  perhaps  I  shall  .  .  .  not  now." 

"  I  kissed  her,  you  know,"  he  said  frankly.  She 
sat  up. 

"When?" 

"  In  London,  the  first  night." 

"Not  since?" 

"  Never." 

She  sat  down  again. 

"  A  proof  of  humanity,"  she  smiled.  "  She's 
quite  charming,  I  know.  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  Not  yet.  Wasn't  it  very  hard  to  keep  up  the 
two  roles  ?  " 

"  Hard,  but,  not  so  very  hard  to  a  woman  who 
has  brains  and  is  an  actress.  It  was  interesting, 
and  I  enjoyed  watching  you." 

"  Tell  me ;  suppose  I  had  kissed  Miss  Arkwright. 
Would  you  have  forgiven  me?" 

The  answer  came  quickly. 

"Yes.     But  I'm  so  glad  you  didn't!" 


398  THE  GAY  ADVENTURE 

"  I,  too,"  he  confessed.  And  then,  "  I  think 
that's  all." 

There  was  a  complete  silence  for  half  a  minute, 
while  he  struggled  to  find  words  to  say  to  this 
most  lovely  woman.  He  could  find  none.  Each 
knew  the  other's  heart  already,  and  words  seemed 
vain  and  meaningless.  "  Oh,  Beatrice  darling !  " 
he  said,  almost  with  a  sob,  "  don't  keep  me  waiting 
any  longer !  I  want  you !  I  want  you !  " 

"  Lai,  dearest ! "  she  said. 

"  And  this  is  the  end,"  she  said  presently  with  a 
little  sigh.  "We  shall  just  get  married  and  settle 
into  stodgy  conventional  people.  It  sounds  flat, 
doesn't  it?" 

"  Why  should  it  be  the  end  ?  We  can  be  happy 
and  ourselves,  too.  We  can  still  have  romance,  ad- 
ventures, though  youth  passes " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No ;  we  shall  have  happiness,  but  never  the 
same  as  this.  We  have  been  lucky  and  had  the 
most  splendid  fun.  But  now,  whether  we  wish  it 
or  not,  we  shall  have  to  grow  up  and  try  to  find  out 
what  life  is." 

"  Well,  we'll  bargain  for  one  adventure  a  year, 


THE  USUAL  THING  399 

at  least,"  he  stipulated.  "  Old  or  young,  we'll  have 
that!" 

"  We  must  earn  it,  Lai ! "  she  said  with  a  wise 
smile.  "  We've  no  right  to  such  happiness  un- 
less  " 

"  Make  me  your  debtor  now ! "  he  said,  clasp- 
ing her  more  closely.  "  Beatrice,  darling,  I  love 
you!  Do  you  realize  it?  I  love  you!" 

She  breathed  one  word,  the  most  perfect  pledge 
a  man  could  hope  for. 

"Egotist!" 


THE   END 


A     000128243     3 


